


The tales of the terrible She

by ThetenthtenbeingofTen



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (Eggmungandr is an easteregg for Onii-sama. You're welcome), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baldr Has Depression, Bebe snek is bebe., Birth of Loki's Children, Boda and Loki need some relationship counseling, Breastfeeding, Character Death, Coming to Terms with Death, Don't ask questions if you don't want the answer, Dubious Consent, EGG Birth, Exotic Jötunn Culture, F/M, Fenrir is an overgrown puppy, Genderfluid Loki, Hel goes to Hel, Helblindi and Byleistr are good brothers, Illustrated, Implied/Referenced Past Non-Con, Intersex Loki, Jörmungandr and Fenrir are difficult to raise, Loki and Company vs. Utgard-Loki, Loki experiences the joys of pregnancy hormones, Loki is not okay, Loki's complicated feelings towards Eggmungandr, Magic, Morally Ambigous Loki, Multi, Nonbinary Angrboda, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Genital Injury, Past Sexual Assault, Poor Jörmungandr..., Preventing Ragnarök, Questionable Coping Methods, Reconciliation, Shapeshifter Loki, Sibling Reunion, Sif and Thor get married, Skrymir is lowkey terrifying Loki, The Norns really hate Loki apparently..., The gadfly wasn't Loki in disguise, Thiálfi and Röskva!, Thor did an oopsie-doopsie (Part 2/?), Traumatic childbirth, Witch Angrboda, Witch Loki, graphic childbirth, mild postpartum depression, trauma aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 57,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetenthtenbeingofTen/pseuds/ThetenthtenbeingofTen
Summary: Ragnarök is a cyclical event. Every time the Norns add a new flair, a new touch, a new twist to the tale leading up to the end of the world.Loki has been born and re-born many times. Sometimes remembering more, sometimes less.This time, a simple choice may be what prevents Ragnarök and avoids the sorrows that would otherwise befall his children...
Relationships: Angrboða | Angerboda/Loki (Norse Religion & Lore)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 32





	1. The terrible She...!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so... here we are.  
> I honestly don't know how far I'll take this story, but hey... why not share what I wrote so far? (It isn't much, but whatever...)
> 
> This will mostly be using the Norse mythology - as written in the Prose- and Poetic Edda - as a reference for plot and some characters. (It's not necessary to know the Eddas to understand this story though.)  
> I tagged the Thor movies though, because I can't not imagine these characters as their actors. So basically... Same faces, different makeup, costumes and script.
> 
> I hope that makes sense.
> 
> As for the idea of this story... I thought what if Loki had actually carried and born his monstrous children? Wouldn't that maybe change things? What if this caused him to have a different bond with them, and maybe... that changes things...?
> 
> But then also my inner Drama Queen took hold of the idea, and here we have... this. Whatever this is.
> 
> Lastly, my dearest soul sibling has been helping me with some parts - mostly giving me ideas for humorous scenes - but their help is still greatly appreciated. Love you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last I have had the energy to make up a cover image for this story. I hope you like it!

  
  


_Behold the terrible She, who has wrought from her womb's embrace_

_a monster that will feast on blood and from your heart all hope shall chase._

Far in the depths of Ironwood lives the terrible She, a witch. So the story goes. Many have gone to find her, to seek her counsel or to buy a boon from her, but only few seem to live now to tell their tale.

Even fewer seem to know that there was not one witch that dwelt in Ironwood; but two. One, the sorrow bringer, the Jötunn wench that gave Ironwood its name, by soaking its soil with blood-iron.

The other, the tangler, the knot maker and the airborn weaver of Seidr; She, whose brood will close the tale of the world itself.

  
  


It is a load of nonsense, and yet more true than some other tales people tell. Still, Loki will never take anyone seriously who shudders at the mention of “The terrible She”, mostly because the only “She” that dwells in Ironwood is one who’d rather not be referred to as such.

Anyone who has been to Angrboda’s home knows that they prefer to transcend gender in mind if not in body. Unlike Loki himself, Angrboda is not a shapeshifter. Angrboda is a witch.

They live with Loki in their home, deep in Ironwood.

Their home is a humble building with 3 levels. A deep cellar, where Loki and Angrboda brew potions, make salves and ointments or look into wise waters to tell the fortunes of nature and weather.

The main part of the home has a hall to welcome guests and supplicants in need of their aid, with a table, a library, a surprisingly comfortable cot and much more. The private rooms are above that. The bedroom and the studio where they make the tools they need for their craft.

One of the most important items in the house is the Seidr loom. This is where Loki weaves Seidr into a thin veil that is hung from the east-facing window. The veil unravels as the Norns read his prayers and messages, the threads getting lost in the wind.

He’s been weaving a lot lately.

Angrboda stood behind him and laid their hands on his shoulders.

“You know I can tell when you’re trying to keep something from me,” they reminded softly, and his hands stopped, his fingers still upon the threads.

“I know,” Loki whispered and tilted his head back to look up at Angrboda, who stood a head taller than him usually, now towering above him as he was sitting down.

“I’m not trying to keep anything from you,” he added after a moment and rose to his feet. Angrboda’s hands gently slid from his shoulders to his waist. They pulled him close.

“Then tell me what is bothering you,” they asked.

Loki pulled away and caressed the veil bearing his prayers. For once they were his own, intimate, private prayers.

Prayers for good health and… a gentle welcome into the world.

Instead of an answer Loki gave Angrboda a withering glance, then a sigh.

“Have you heard what the Völva told Odin?” he asked then.

Angrboda sighed deeply, “That we will bring forth monsters to end the world?” they offered. Loki nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment and froze when Angrboda’s hands came to rest upon his flat stomach. They knew now.

“Don’t be sorry,” Angrboda whispered and wrapped their arms around him, pulling him closer until his back was pressed into their soft chest.

“I’m happy either way,” they assured, when he remained silent. Loki turned to look at Angrboda. “Do you realize what you’re saying?” he asked.

Angrboda smiled.

“Yes,” they chuckled, leaning down to press their lips to Loki’s. He gave in to the kiss. “I am the _bringer of sorrow_ , did you forget that?” they asked as they let him go. Loki rolled his eyes, “Of course, how could I forget. I live with you after all, woe is me,” he simpered and sat on the bench at the loom again.

Angrboda chuckled and ran their fingers through his long, black hair.

“Come down,” they said softly, “I’ll interrogate the runes for you. You still need to learn more about that,” they reminded, and Loki let out a murring complaint.

“I know weaving calms you, but you know better than to pester the norns more than necessary,” Angrboda pointed out and gave Loki a gentle nudge.

Angrboda brought out their beech wands, each one had runes carved into the wood that would tell the fortunes of people, depending on how they landed upon being thrown.

Reading them was an art in itself.

Angrboda was trying to teach Loki that art. He had a tendency to be rash in his readings, overlooking important details.

Angrboda hoped that he would look much more closely now since the fortune they were about to read was that of their offspring.

“I’ll let you do the incantation, while I lay out the tapestry,” Angrboda said, placing the fragile wands in Loki’s open hand.

Loki nodded and started chanting.

The incantation was as important as the runes themselves. How would the fortunes know otherwise, to tell the right future? You had to tell them. That’s what the incantation was for.

He raised his hand over his head, tilting up his chin as he sang stronger and stronger - asking the most important questions - and then… he dropped the wands onto the tapestry.

He held his breath and peered down.

Angrboda nodded slowly and knelt down, gesturing for Loki to do the same. The tapestry was marked with threads, indicating in which direction the runes had to be read.

Loki sat at the bottom of the tapestry and started reading.

“I see… a wolf,” Loki started. Angrboda nodded. “Yes, what more?”

Loki hummed and moved his fingers above the wands, never touching. “I… it… it’s a heart?” He looked to Angrboda for confirmation.

“Is it a heart?” they asked.

“It is a heart, but not…”

“It is part of a heart,” Angrboda said.

“Is it the wolf’s heart?” Loki asked, tilting his head to read the runes at the side of the wand, indicating the heart.

Angrboda tilted their head as well, humming. “Hard to tell, even for me,” they admitted. With a sigh they pulled Loki into their arms.

“What about that part?” they prompted, nodding towards a corner Loki hadn’t paid much attention to.

“That may be me,” Loki murmured. “It indicates breathlessness…” he read and looked at Angrboda. “So maybe…”

He didn’t finish his thought.

Angrboda understood anyway.

  
  


When Loki’s stomach started to swell, a mere month after the conception of whatever monster he was bearing, he and Angrboda got a bit nervous. Even more so when he felt the unborn squirming and kicking with great strength.

He started wearing a protective shawl about his middle. It had been made by Angrboda a long time ago, worn and faded already, yet still powerful in its effect.

Still Angrboda kept Loki from doing anything strenuous, worrying that the demise of _lopt_ was an indication that Loptr - Loki - would soon find his end too.

Loki rarely gave in to Angrboda’s pleading, preferring to stay active, to act like nothing was wrong at all. Maybe the shawl made him cocky, Angrboda feared. He was a cunning, wanton and sometimes cruel creature, but most of all, he was rash and often reckless, living in the moment and ignoring the future.

  
  


There was a knock on the door one day, at dawn. Loki wanted to rise and open, but Angrboda held him back.

They opened the door themself, peering down at the supplicant.

A woman. A hood upon her head and shoulders, her billowing dress obscuring the shape of her body.

“What brings you to my humble home?”

The woman flinched and peeked up at Angrboda from beneath her hood.

“You are the witch of Ironwood,” she said, her voice hopeful. “I saw the veil at your window,” she added when Angrboda didn’t respond.

“Yes,” they finally said. “One of them, at least,” they added and reached out to remove the woman’s hood.

“And you are?” they wondered, but the woman withdrew.

“Let me in,” she pleaded.

Loki was too curious to stay put any longer. He walked up behind Angrboda and glanced at the woman.

“Lady Sif,” he said once he recognized her.

Sif froze, recognizing him too. “Loki?!”

Angrboda frowned at Loki but didn’t say anything. They allowed Sif to enter, seeing as Loki apparently knew her.

“I haven’t seen you since…” Sif started, but Loki cut her off, “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

Sif blinked.

“You better tell us what brings you here. The beautiful Lady Sif shouldn’t have to seek out a witch for her needs,” he pointed out instead.

Sif lowered her head and smoothed out the billowing skirt of her dress, revealing the swell of her belly.

She was with child.

Loki sighed deeply.

“I understand. And if I am right, your decision to come to us, rather than seeking out Eir or Frigg herself, tells me all I need to know about how you came into your current condition,” he said quietly.

Angrboda put their hand on Loki’s back. They knew just how well he understood Sif’s plight. After all, the same reason had brought him to Angrboda’s home many years ago.

“I need to hide. I can’t let people know what happened,” Sif said, now looking to Angrboda, assuming they were the one in charge.

Angrboda huffed, “This is not an inn,” they pointed out. “We don’t have room for a lady of delicate constitution.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, “What about the cot?” he asked. “Lady Sif will be fine,” he assured and ignored Angrboda’s exasperated sigh.

He led Sif to the room that had the cot in it. It was usually used for healing, but now it would serve as Sif’s temporary bed.

“Here. It’s not what you’re used to, but it’ll do,” Loki told her and looked around the room. “It’s best if you don’t touch anything,” he added after a moment. “You don’t want to curse yourself, your child or your family by accident.”

Sif looked at him wide eyed.

Loki shrugged.

“You are in a witch’s home. What do you expect?”

  
  


Angrboda was hesitant to allow Sif to stay. What if somebody came here, looking for her? They had made their home in Ironwood for a reason! While they welcome those in need, they prefer solitude most of the time.

And especially now that Loki was carrying… something, something that was growing fast at that, they were even more reluctant.

But Loki insisted.

He pointed out that the Aesir would come to seek revenge if their precious Lady Sif was harmed or lost in Ironwood. They should help her to the best of their skills, then send her home safely.

It was sound logic, but Angrboda couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that Loki had different interests and reasons.

  
  


Nevertheless, Sif stayed with them until she went into labor.

Angrboda and Loki were highly trained in their craft. Angrboda was an experienced midwife, who had delivered many a child, cub, pup and even a foal.

They had personally trained Loki, who had prior knowledge from his time in Asgard, where Frigg had trained him in the art of Seidr among others.

This knowledge now served to aid in the delivery of Sif’s child.

Loki knelt between Sif’s parted knees, his hands resting lightly on her belly. He felt her contractions with her.

“W-what should I do… I have to do something, do I not…?” Sif gasped as another contraction passed.

Loki smiled up at her and rubbed her belly.

“Sure,” he said. “Your body will tell you, just listen.”

Sif wailed at the next contraction, and Loki grabbed onto her shoulders. “Don’t do that. Breathe, follow me, breathe,” he coached, inhaling and exhaling slowly to guide her.

“Deeper, Sif,” he told her, “breathe into your belly. You’re breathing for yourself and your babe, so you gotta breathe into your chest and your belly, got it?” 

Sif tried her best to follow his instructions, and before long she got the hang of it.

“You are no lady here, you are a mother, and you do a mother’s work,” Angrboda told her between contractions. They observed Loki’s work.

Since he knew Sif personally, he was the better choice to serve as midwife, but Angrboda was more experienced still.

Sif turned her glossy, teary eyes to Angrboda.

“Don’t concern yourself with what is proper and what is not.”

Loki hummed, “Boda is right. I will see everything. And I will feel nothing about it,” he told her.

Sif sobbed but nodded. She put her hands on Loki’s shoulders, and she closed her eyes. She started to roll her hips - shyly and slightly at first. Loki started to chant, following her rhythm.

Sif’s moans melted into Loki’s chant. She started to push and Loki brought his hands between her legs, cradling the emerging head.

Sif moaned and screamed a few more times and then - it was almost sudden - the baby slid into Loki’s waiting hands.

He gently laid it on a towel and rubbed the child’s back, getting out the fluids from its lungs.

At last it screamed.

He wrapped it in a clean blanket and handed it to Sif.

“A boy,” he told her. She held the infant as he guided it to rest atop her belly. Sif sobbed as she looked at her son’s face, scrunched up and bloodied from the birth, screaming.

“A boy…” she repeated and sniffled.

Loki smiled, “Yes,” he confirmed and helped Sif to lay back against the pile of cushions behind her back. “Put him to your breast and let him suckle,” he instructed. “Let him smell your breast, he will know where to latch,” he added when she struggled.

It took a moment, but the boy latched on and started suckling eagerly. The joy on Sif's face was impossible to overlook.

She laughed a soft, thin, disbelieving laugh. She looked at Loki, blinking back tears, “He is healthy, yes?” she asked.

He nodded.

“As healthy as can be,” he told her.

“He is glorious,” Sif praised and caressed her son's cheek.

Angrboda went about finishing up everything, insisting that Loki should rest now. He had done most of the work.

They expected Loki to protest, but he was surprisingly obedient.

He went to rest, but rose early the next morning to weave Seidr.

  
  


Sif departed with her son - named Ullr - once she had fully recovered.

Soon after Loki himself went into labor. The wolf he had seen in the runes, was the one he was carrying in his womb.

His labor was long, lasting an entire day. It started mild enough, with only slight discomfort. He even continued to brew potions in the cellar, keeping his condition from Angrboda for quite a while.

When they came down to check on him after hearing him gasp and moan, he could no longer hide it.

Angrboda chided him, but ultimately couldn’t bring themself to be angry or even exasperated. They understood why he chose to hide his labor as long as possible.

For all his bravado and courage he was scared.

  
  


They brought him to the bathing pool - outside the home itself, on the west side - where they helped him bathe and clean himself.

He rested in the warm water for a good while, relaxing as his body opened up.

Around sunset he asked Angrboda to take him to their room. He felt things moving.

They did as he bade and carried him upstairs, settling him upon the bed.

His labor had progressed into painful contractions, but he knew how to handle those. What wasn’t so easy to handle was the continuous squirming and struggling of his pup.

Whenever he bore down it emerged further, but the moment he stopped to catch his breath its squirming brought it back into the depths of his body.

While the pup tore open the amniotic sac that covered it, it remained upon its head.

Angrboda finally reached into Loki, pulling the writhing pup from his body and removing the caul from the pup’s face.

In this process the newborn wolf scratched and bit at Angrboda’s hands, howling and yapping as it tasted their blood.

  
  


Loki and Angrboda had to use binding spells to hold down their pup, needing to find the cause of its distress.

They found it was a male, but even so neither of the two could think of a name for the pup.

At last they understood the cause of their son’s suffering.

He was born with an incomplete heart.

  
  


Loki was stricken with grief. It was his fault, he knew. He had lost part of his heart when he was made to bear Sleipnir. For all the care Angrboda offered him, they had not been able to heal this injury.

Now though, Angrboda could help.  
  
They drew out part of their own heart and transferred it to the pup with Loki’s assistance. It was a difficult, prolonged and painful process, since it had to be done with great care, lest Angrboda themself be killed accidentally.

After another night of continuous work though, Loki and Angrboda managed to do it. They hadn’t slept at all, but even so they could not wait to free their son and see if the transfer had helped him.  
  


Fearing more injury though, Loki suggested to carry the pup to the bog, where it wouldn’t damage them or their home if it raged more.

So it was done. Loki gently placed the paralyzed pup on a wide tree stump, then lifted the binding spell.

  
  


The pup perked up with a wheeze, then squirmed a little, yapped… and curled up.

Loki sank to his knees, his relief immeasurable. Angrboda caught him and helped him stand.

At last they could think of a name.

Fenrir.

  
  


Loki assumed a female appearance, giving her rounded, heavy breasts, so she could feed her puppy. Fenrir nursed frequently and enthusiastically. He grew fast, from a newborn pup, the size of Loki’s cupped hands, to the length of her arm, to the length of her thigh and so forth.

Soon she and Angrboda had to take long walks with Fenrir to tire him out. His appetite and energy somehow both seemed to be unending! As was his love for his parents. He followed them wherever they went.

Whenever Angrboda went to gather wood for fire, plants for ointments and potions, mushrooms to eat or whatever else was needed Fenrir would follow.

Upon their return home, Fenrir would eagerly greet his mother and whimper until she fed him.

Loki stayed in her female body until Fenrir was weaned.

Still, he was Fenrir’s first choice when it came to getting food. Loki could never refuse when Fenrir begged for seconds.

“You know you are going to overfeed and spoil him, Loki,” Angrboda warned when they caught Loki feeding Fenrir another piece of raw meat.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“If he’s hungry, it means he needs food,” he pointed out.

Angrboda gave him a look, then knelt in front of Fenrir, gently rubbing his heavy, full belly.

They didn’t say anything else, but gave Loki a look.

He only smiled and when Angrboda turned their back - and Fenrir begged again - he gave him another bite.


	2. Loptr's Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: mentions of past genital injury.

Before long Fenrir outgrew their home. He no longer safely fit through the door, and so he had to stay outside.

Loki fashioned him a nest to the best of his abilities, so the wolf would be able to stay close to his family.

He often spent afternoons with Fenrir, reading to him. Fenrir loved those afternoons together - the few hours of calm he could tolerate, before having to run off and get out all his energy. He grumbled happily while Loki sat next to him, resting the book on his smooth flank while he read. Whenever he flipped a page, Loki ran his fingers through Fenrir’s long, dark fur.

They rarely made it through more than a chapter - maybe two, if they were short - before Fenrir got restless again.

Loki never minded this, dutifully placing a bookmark between the pages so he could continue reading to Fenrir once he returned.

Angrboda watched from a window, sometimes even coming to the front door to see their son off.

“You’re about halfway through,” they said, picking up the book Loki had put aside. Loki turned to look at Angrboda and nodded.

“He likes it. He stays put nicely,” he confirmed, then chuckled, “it’s nothing like when I read the book of poetry to him. I could feel him fidget the entire time!”

Angrboda laughed and put the book down again. It sat on a stool next to the nest. Originally it was for Loki to sit on while he read, but as Fenrir insisted on being as close to Loki as possible it was soon abandoned.

Angrboda smiled, wrapping their arms around Loki. He leaned into the embrace, only briefly averting his eyes from his partner.

He heard Fenrir barking in the distance.

“I just hope he doesn’t go to the bog again,” he murmured. Angrboda cringed, “Yeah… so do I,” they agreed.

Another bark was heard - almost as if the wolf was telling them not to get their hopes up.

Loki sighed. “I’ll have to make a new nest for him soon. His tail hangs over the side already,” he told Angrboda.

The Jötunn sighed.

“Maybe we can commission the dwarves to make one that’ll grow to match his size?” they suggested.

Loki grimaced. He had great respect for the dwarven craftsmen, admired their work and skill… but for some reason he never felt quite at ease with them.

He hadn’t dealt with them much so far - thankfully - but something still unsettled him.

  
  


“I want to weave,” Loki said after a moment. Angrboda understood. They gave him a gentle nudge.

“Read the runes with me first.”

They did so, reading from the fallen wands many a thing. Again they saw the incomplete heart they had seen before Fenrir was born.

Loki’s heart sank.

They saw a stallion upon the clouds, and a serpent among the seas.

  
  


When Fenrir returned he found Loki weaving Seidr again, and begged for treats from Angrboda.

Angrboda knew Fenrir was capable of hunting for himself, but for some reason the wolf would always run home and beg to be given food from their - or Loki’s - hand.

Maybe he wanted to assure himself that no matter how big he got, he could always come to his parents?

Maybe it made him feel safer…

Angrboda gave Fenrir what was left of a pheasant - they had eaten most of it with Loki for dinner.

Fenrir devoured it eagerly, laying down before Angrboda and wagging his tail.

They rolled their eyes and went to scratch behind Fenrir’s ears. Fenrir practically melted.

  
  


Loki peered out the window, watching his son and his partner. He wasn’t one for sentiment, but even he couldn’t quite deny the comfortable warmth that sat in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this when he birthed Sleipnir.

There had been some kind of glow, a sheen, a bond, but he severed it before it went anywhere.

He was proud of his colt - a gorgeous steed now - and he knew this feeling would never change.

When Sleipnir had managed to stand on his 8 wobbly legs and started to stagger around, following Loki wherever he went, even when he changed back into his normal skin, it had made his heart flutter.

He had felt a love of some sort. The kind of love that made him want to care and nurture.

He denied it.

Too deep sat the painful memory of that night, when Svadilfari chased him far and wide…

  
  


It was this pain that caused Fenrir to be born the way he was, with his heart incomplete. Loki feared that whatever he would conceive next would suffer the same fate.

He knew that Angrboda understood his fears.

When they joined him in bed that night, holding him close to their own body, their hand covering the entirety of his chest - his heart - he knew they understood it all.

  
  


Angrboda went to the dwarves a short while later with Fenrir. Loki stayed behind to mind the house.

He prayed for safe travels, read the runes and saw into the wise waters to ensure the two of them would arrive whole and hale.

  
  


They returned. Fenrir was now so big that Angrboda rode on his back. Fenrir looked happy. His joy doubled as Loki emerged from the house when he heard the thunderous padding of Fenrir’s paws upon the ground.

He barked and bounded towards Loki, practically throwing himself on top of him. 

Angrboda shrieked and tried to pull Fenrir back by his ears. Their exasperated shouts got lost in the commotion of Fenrir’s happy yipping and barking.

Loki finally managed to free himself from his overly excited - and overgrown - puppy. “I missed you too, I’m glad you are back,” he told Fenrir, cradling his muzzle with his arms, like a hug.

Angrboda slipped off of Fenrir’s back and pinched his ear. “I told you not to do this,” they lectured. Fenrir whimpered but showed no signs of remorse.

He was back with his mother, what else mattered anyway?

Loki seemingly didn’t mind either. He smiled up at Angrboda, reaching for them with his free arm.

They smiled too and moved in to hug Loki, sighing as they buried their face in his hair.

“Did you miss me too? Or just your pup?” They asked with a smirk, pulling away to look at Loki.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Did I miss my bringer of sorrow?” he wondered. He often used Angrboda’s name to tease them.

Both knew he meant it with as much love as he was capable of feeling.

Angrboda had  _ saved _ him in the moments of his  _ greatest _ sorrow. Whatever sorrows they could bring him paled in comparison to that memory.

Angrboda smiled and pulled Loki into a kiss that lasted until Fenrir snorted and started to fidget.

Loki laughed and kissed Fenrir’s damp nose. The huff of his warm breath tickled his skirt.

“Will you rest with me now?” he asked and scritched the bridge of Fenrir’s nose, smoothing out the furrow between his heavy brows.

His pup looked so strong and dangerous like that, when Loki knew him to be but a sweet child in the body of a monster.

Fenrir barked and carefully - as carefully as he could at least - backed away until his wagging tail brushed against the surrounding trees.

Loki smiled and looked at Angrboda.

“Well, let’s see the dwarven made bed then,” he said and Angrboda reached into their satchel, pulling out a small box. They showed it to Loki, who inspected it, reaching out with a web of Seidr, testing for anything dangerous or harmful.

“This is marvelous,” he said once he was done and placed the box upon the ground, opening the lid.

Fenrir waited for his prompt, then put a single paw into the box, which then expanded to be the perfect size for Fenrir to sprawl on. The lid turned into a canopy providing shade, or protecting from rain.

Judging by Fenrir’s excited barking he couldn’t wait to have Loki join him.

Loki picked up the book he had put aside to read to Fenrir once he and Angrboda returned and came to sit next to Fenrir - though Fenrir wouldn’t settle until Loki was half curled up on top of him.

Loki managed to read two chapters to Fenrir before he got restless again. Smiling Loki put aside the book and went into the house to pick up a wooden cup that held various items for sacrifice.

He went to the bog with Fenrir - not the spot where he and Angrboda had brought Fenrir after his birth; no, they went to a special place that was hard to reach.

This was the holy grove where the Norns came to accept gifts and sacrifices. It was the gateway between the mortal and immortal branches of Yggdrasil touched.

Loki thanked the Norns for their mercy, allowing him and Angrboda to save Fenrir, he thanked them for their safe journey and the gift of the dwarves.

  
  


When he went back home Fenrir followed him to the door, then barked and ran away again. He had to run about and move around.

Loki smiled and watched his overgrown puppy disappear into the woods. He then entered the home and found Angrboda downstairs, their nose stuck in a book.

Loki moved in behind them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders, hiding his face in their coarse hair.

Angrboda hummed. “Mmh, yes?” they asked and lowered the book.

“What did you pay the dwarves?” he asked in return.

Angrboda shrugged and turned back to look at Loki. They smirked, wrapping one arm around his waist. “Told some fortunes, healed some ailments…” another shrug, “The usual.”

Loki nodded. He seemed satisfied with that reply and twisted out of Angrboda’s grasp, disappearing upstairs again.

Angrboda watched him go and sighed. He was all kinds of insufferable sometimes.

  
  


That night Angrboda couldn’t keep their hands off of Loki.

After being apart for so long - longer than they had been since the beginning of their relationship - they longed to reconnect with him.

They had been apart for much longer before, though that was before they came to their current relationship.

That was when they first met, and Angrboda felt the first inklings of desire for him, though no love yet.

If one were to ask them, they would probably deny feeling  _ true _ love for him even now… but their actions spoke louder than their words ever could.

  
  


That was why Loki allowed them to do what they did. That is why he did not stop them, even though he feared the outcome of their deeds.

This time was different than before, when he got with Fenrir.

This time he knew the prophecy, he had seen the runes and even as he hoped that the Norns would be kind to him, he knew they rarely were.

The Norns were capricious at best and cruel at worst. Loki knew this.

  
  


He also knew that in truth, he had no right to refuse. Such was the law of the Jötnar. One without their rings was free game.

The rings in question are placed when a Jötunn comes of age. Almost all Jötnar are hermaphrodites or at least intersex. Some have breasts, some don’t, but most have a slit. That’s where the rings are placed, practically lacing their opening shut.

The more rings a Jötunn bore - each one adorned with a delicate matching chain to drape along their thighs - the more their virginity was worth.

Most Jötunn tribes were matriarchal. To honor one’s mate was the highest law and the rings ensured this practice.

They could only be removed by a gentle, steady and welcome hand. If removed carelessly, there would be damage.

Loki knew this very well.

  
  


After his mother’s death Loki had been highly sought after. He had four chains on either thigh!

He was the firstborn of Laufey - the Jötnar affectionately called her  _ Nál _ ; needle - and Fárbauti, Utgard-Loki’s best soldier.

Actually, Loki’s true name was Loptr Fárbautason, but nobody knew this anymore, aside from his family.

Back then, his name was well known. Fárbauti, Byleistr and even Helblindi - who barely saw more than the light of day and the shade of night - tried their best to protect Loptr, their precious runtling.

They came too late one time.

  
  


They came in time to save Loptr’s virginity but not his rings.

Helblindi cleaned him up after they brought him home - he was chosen since he would not have to see the bloody injuries, he would not have to look into Loptr’s eyes as he fixed the damage as best as he could.

That same night Fárbauti took Loptr to Asgard, where he’d be safer. He had taken after Laufey in his looks, more so than Fárbauti, so he’d blend in nicely.

  
  


Ever since Loptr was said to have died from his injuries.

  
  


Loki Laufeyjarson made his grand entrance into Asgard, found his place among the gods and lost it just as quickly when  _ the wall _ was built.

When Loki - in the body of a mare - realized the predicament she was in, her first impulse was to go back home, to Jötunnheimr.

But she remembered that she had no place there. On top of that, she was a horse! How would she seek help at all without giving away her identity…?

It seemed impossible.

So she went to Midgard instead.

It took her many months before she found her way into Ironwood, where she met Angrboda.

The witch figured out the truth soon enough. They assisted in Sleipnir’s birth and when Loki returned to his own body, they hardly batted an eyelash.

They saw Loki as one in need, and once his need was taken care of, he’d be a stranger once more.

  
  


But when he left - Sleipnir innocently trotting after him - Angrboda couldn’t help but notice that he had no chains.

  
  


Many years later, when Loki returned - alone and in good health, this time - Angrboda truly found themself contemplating the meaning of his lack of adorning chains.

They didn’t get to ask him about them. Instead he made the first step, offering his body in return for knowledge. Angrboda had accepted the offer, but stopped when they saw the traces of the terrible damage. It told them so much of why Loki was how he was.

Angrboda prided themself on their full set of rings; untouched since the day they had been first placed.

  
  


From then on, it took many nights of careful exploration, of hesitant touches and approaches, withdrawals and apologies for Loki to admit the truth. That he had offered his body to Angrboda, so that they wouldn’t get to take him by force.

Angrboda promised they would never do such a thing.

And true to their word, they never did.

  
  


On the morning of the next day Loki wove Seidr again and Angrboda interrogated the runes.

Their fate was decided.

Loki would bear another monster.

Amusingly it seemed Fenrir was the first to notice, and the most happy at it too. That morning, when Loki came to him to read, Fenrir perked up almost immediately and started sniffing at Loki’s middle.

Loki was mortified at first, fearing that slivers of Angrboda’s scent still clung to him, but as Fenrir started to bark and lap at his stomach Loki realized that Fenrir  _ knew _ .

Reading was postponed to later, after Fenrir calmed down - which took quite a while. Not that Loki minded. It was comforting to know that Fenrir was looking forward to having a sibling, so unaware of his parents’ worries.

These worries though, were still very present.

Whatever Loki bore would inherit his broken heart, just as Fenrir had. Whatever he bore would have to be given part of Angrboda’s heart, just as Fenrir had.


	3. Norns will it so

Unlike Fenrir, whatever he was carrying did not seem to move much. All he felt was a growing weight, a dense sphere forming in his abdomen.

Unlike Fenrir, it seemed to take it’s sweet time too.

Angrboda had carefully felt around Loki’s abdomen, trying to feel for specific features that would tell them more about their unborn offspring, but couldn’t really find anything.

There definitely  _ was _ something growing in Loki’s womb though.

Not sure what to do other than wait, Angrboda convinced Loki to at least wear the shawl again that had helped settle and soothe Fenrir in the past.

Loki struggled to believe that it had only been a year since then.

In only a year Fenrir had somehow grown from a puppy to the size of a very large horse. Loki wasn’t sure, but he suspected he may have outgrown Svadilfari at this point. And that stallion was gigantic.

Despite his size Fenrir still didn’t seem to have any desire to behave any less like a puppy than before. He still begged for snacks and treats, insisted on regular cuddling and play-time, refused to sit still for more than an hour or two and needed to run around the forest for a substantial amount of time. Not that Loki minded of course, he was happy if his son was happy.

Fenrir was very useful too - when he wanted to be, at least - as he could easily carry whatever he or Angrboda would struggle to transport by themselves.

He also helped “guide” lost travelers to the witch house.

  
  


Though his concept of “guiding” was dragging by the collar of their coats.

  
  


Loki of course knew he meant no harm whatsoever, but explaining that to terrified guests and petitioners was… difficult, to say the least.

Some actually understood once they saw Fenrir interact with Loki, barking eagerly, wagging his tail and begging for a reward - scritches, treats or both - but some were less willing to see the wolf as anything other than a monster.

Loki had feared such.

  
  


Still he was taken by surprise when another ‘guest’ was brought to the house by Fenrir, only to tear off his coat to rush forth and shield Loki - who was at this point visibly pregnant, but still - from Fenrir.

Loki had never seen Fenrir this confused.

The whole situation got even better when Angrboda came out to check on them - having heard the commotion outside.

They had brought a treat for Fenrir, knowing Loki would give him one either way and ushered Fenrir away from Loki and the traveler, while Loki tried to explain to the man that he was no damsel in distress and that he did not need to be rescued from his own son.

  
  


In the end the man was not convinced, but his desperation pushed him to put up with Fenrir’s presence.

His wife was pregnant and sick - which was probably why he rushed to protect Loki from Fenrir. Loki knew most people didn’t mean any harm when they behaved this way - if not for Angrboda’s sacrifice they’d be very right to fear Fenrir! - but it still hurt him somehow. To think his son was judged so easily for his appearance rather than his actions…

Angrboda went to the man’s house and helped his wife, while Loki distracted Fenrir and himself with another chapter from their current book. It was about the origin and nature of Yggdrasil, something Loki thought Fenrir should know.

  
  


Fenrir fell asleep halfway through the chapter.

Loki didn’t have the heart to wake him, so he put the book aside and curled up next to him. He could feel Fenrir getting a bit anxious as he stopped speaking, so he talked about whatever came to his mind.

“People will know your name, one day. They will speak of you, as they speak of Sleipnir. The best horse of all, they say about him. They will say the same of you,” he whispered into his ear, “The best wolf of all, the biggest and strongest,” he continued, running his fingers through Fenrir’s thick, dark fur.

He and Angrboda made sure to clean him regularly - especially after his excursions to the bog to play in the mud - so his fur was velvety and dense. While washing Fenrir was always a lot of work Loki knew it was worth it whenever he stroked his fur.

He almost found himself selfishly hoping his next child would be something fluffy too, so he could have his children curling around him like a happy, warm and plush nest.

“I wonder what your sibling will be,” Loki whispered to a snoring Fenrir.

Fenrir flicked his ear and kept snoring.

Loki chuckled and smiled. “You are right,” he amended, “It doesn’t matter, so long as it is healthy and strong.”

  
  


He laid back against Fenrir’s side, resting his hands over his belly and tried to feel. He didn’t realize he had dozed off until he felt somebody’s arms wrapping around him. Angrboda shushed him before he could protest, but Loki wouldn’t have that.

“Stay here, Boda,” he murred and tried to pull them down beside him.

“With Fenrir?” Angrboda asked and gave him a look.

Loki grinned, “Why not? He’s happy,” he pointed out and gave another tug, knowing Angrboda wouldn’t fight him on this. They sighed and settled by Loki’s and Fenrir’s side, wrapping their arms around Loki possessively.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing,” Angrboda assured but Loki knew better. He stared at Angrboda until they gave up. “I just… protecting you is my job. I know you can handle yourself but…” they admitted and Loki started laughing.

He giggled, muffling his voice against Angrboda’s shoulder until he’d caught himself again.

“I’m glad you are amused,” Angrboda muttered, pouting. Loki rolled his eyes. “You are not wrong,” he assured. “Though neither you, nor anyone should be protecting me from my own son.”

  
  


Things got interesting when Fenrir brought a messenger from Asgard to the witch house.

That messenger was Hermódr, who had arrived via Bifröst just outside Ironwood.

  
  


The first thing that told Loki that the person Fenrir was dragging to the house was no ordinary man when he noticed the lack of yelling and protesting.

Loki stepped out of the door and greeted Fenrir, who was very proud of himself for successfully dragging the man here. Loki dutifully praised him and gave him a treat to gnaw on.

He then turned to the messenger.

“Forgive me. He wouldn't have settled if I hadn’t done this first,” he explained and smiled. Hermódr gave a sober nod.

“I am here on behalf of my brother, Thor,” he announced. Loki raised an eyebrow. “Why would the great Thunderer send for me?” He gestured himself - a witch.

Hermódr smiled through his teeth.

“You are invited to the wedding between him and Lady Sif,” he said instead of answering Loki’s question directly.

“Lady Sif suggested inviting you, and after talking to the Allmother Thor agreed.”

Loki smiled.

“In that case I shall come to the glorious ceremony,” he promised.

Hermódr frowned. Angrboda was at the door, checking on Loki.

Loki’s smile never faltered.

“That is all. I will leave now. No need for your…  _ dog _ to accompany me.” Hermódr muttered and turned to leave, but Loki stopped him, his long fingers digging into Hermódr’s arm.

“You have yet to tell me when exactly the wedding takes place,” he pointed out with a hiss.

The messenger glared at Loki’s hand on his arm and shook him off.

“If you are half as good a witch as the Allmother says you are, you will know without me telling you,” he spat.

Loki’s smile became sweet again.

“It warms my heart to know Frigg thinks so highly of me,” he cooed.

Hermódr’s face turned red with anger.

“What right do you have to call her by her name? You are but an argr, lying, ill-bred coward of a witch. My mother’s efforts were utterly wasted on you!”

“It  _ is _ my right, given to me by the Allmother herself,” Loki pointed out, though he did not argue with Hermódr’s other accusations.

Angrboda now stood by Loki’s side, putting an arm around him.

Hermódr took a breath to steady his temper.

“I will leave now. Thor, Lady Sif and the Allmother await you in a fortnight’s time to participate in the blessings and sacrifices. The wedding itself will take place a week after all rites are over.”

“What about Angrboda? Are they to stay behind? Or may they join me?” Loki asked, though he already knew the answer.

Hermódr didn’t even deign to give that question an answer as he strode away into the forest.

Angrboda watched him go, before turning to Loki. “Did you have to be like this?” they asked.

Loki smirked. “I had to find out why he was so angry before I’d even said a word to him,” he explained.

Angrboda gave him a look.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Loki started, putting his hands on Angrboda’s shoulders, “You’ll ask me not to go. But that’s what they want me to do, so they can blame whatever misfortune befalls them on me!”

Angrboda shook their head and grabbed Loki by the shoulders instead. “They will find fault with you no matter what you do!”

“And should I just give in to that and let them? Should I stay here in shame forever because there is no other place I have to call home?” Loki argued, twisting out of Angrboda’s grasp.

The Jötunn lowered their head. They knew very well that they were the one providing Loki with safety from their own people.

They knew that their home was his safe haven, because he wasn’t safe in either Jötunnheimr or Asgardia.

“Maybe I would rather you were safe…” they muttered, stopping themself before they could say whatever else they thought.

I would rather you were safe… than free? home? happy?

Was that truly what they thought? Angrboda hated to think themself capable of such a thought, but deep down they knew… some part of them believed this.

Loki knew this.

  
  


“I will go up and weave another veil. Then … I’ll ride for Nidavellir and commission worthy gifts for the Aesir. By the time they are ready it will be time for me to depart.” He turned to go back inside. Angrboda followed him.

“Wait… are you planning on riding Fenrir into Asgard too?” They asked, their voice jumping up an octave or two.

Loki turned towards them. “Look at me! Would you rather I go on foot?!”

Angrboda froze.

“No. It’s impossible. You will not go!” they insisted. “You could go into labor! You could go into labor on Svartalfheim, among the dwarves! You could go into labor amidst the Aesir!”

“Frigg would protect me!” Loki insisted, “And so would Fenrir!” He rubbed at the corners of his eyes as his composure wore thinner.

“I will return home the moment I feel anything wrong, but please let me go…”

  
  


Angrboda sighed.

“It’s about Frigg, isn’t it?” they realized. “You just want to see her again, don’t you?”

  
  


Loki didn’t respond. His shoulders trembled and for a moment Angrboda thought they had been wrong and he was laughing at them, but he didn’t laugh.

He was crying.

  
  


On the morn of the next day. Loki departed on Fenrir’s back. Angrboda had fashioned him a saddle so that he wouldn’t be jostled so much, but they were still loath to let him leave.

Fenrir dutifully carried Loki into Svartalfheim and further to the fields of Nidavellir where the dwarves lived.

He immediately sought out the most skilled craftsmen among the dwarves, the sons of Ivaldi and their rivals, Eitri and Brokkr.

He persuaded them to craft him worthy gifts for the Aesir, so that he may hand them over on the day of Thor and Lady Sif’s wedding.

Of course, if he had asked  _ only _ the sons of Ivaldi  _ or _ Eitri and Brokkr none of his gifts would have been made in time. But Loki was no fool, and ready to pay the price for twice the work.

For Sif he had a circlet made, of pure gold, matching the color of her hair. It would be hers to keep and to give away but it would only settle atop the head of one who was loyal to her and hers.

For Thor he had a hammer made. In his time on Asgard under Frigg’s tutelage Loki had often seen the Thunderer conjure his powers and time and time again he shuddered, thinking of the power he could summon if only he channelled all his might into one point.

This hammer would be the conduit for this power.

For Odin he had two gifts made. Firstly: Draupnir, a ring that would multiply by eight, every ninth night, so he could give one to each of his many grandchildren.

Secondly: Gungnir, a spear that would always strike and land true.

Lastly, for Freyr he had two more gifts made, so that he may give Thor and Lady Sif a happy and fulfilled marriage. Firstly: Gullinbursti, a boar with golden bristles that would pull Freyr’s chariot for him.

Secondly: Skidbladnir, a ship that could carry all who dwelt in Asgard and would always find a gentle breeze to guide it safely. When it wasn’t needed it could be folded up to be the size of a handkerchief - much like Fenrir’s expanding bed.

In turn - just as Angrboda had previously - Loki served the dwarves and their families. He treated illnesses, read fortunes and helped where he could.

When a nasty gadfly stung Brokkr Loki healed him and made sure there was no lasting damage.

  
  


At long last, when it was time for Loki to ride for Asgard he thanked the dwarves and promised to pray for their good fortunes once he returned home.

He put his gifts into a magic satchel and took on the shape of a woman. She put on her finest dress and prized jewels and thus arrived by the Bifröst.

In this shape, bearing all her adornments she most resembled her late mother, Laufey. Loki hoped it would help her.

  
  


Heimdallr greeted her as she neared the gate of Asgardia.

“I had feared my eyes had failed me for a moment when I saw your approach,” he told her sternly.

Loki smiled, “You know me to be a shapeshifter, Heimdallr, my friend.”

Heimdallr exhaled through his nostrils.

“I dare not yet say if I am your friend or not,” he said.

Loki rubbed her heavy, round belly and shifted luxuriously on her wolfish son’s back. Fenrir growled softly, but not aggressively.

“I assure you, I come with the best intentions. As you can see too, my son is but a sweet - if slightly oversized - puppy,” Loki assured, caressing the side of Fenrir’s thick neck.

Heimdallr frowned. “I hope you understand that he cannot follow you into the palace itself, right?”

Loki tittered, “Oh but I thought the palace would finally be a hall big enough for even  _ his _ size! I am heartbroken!”

When Heimdallr failed to respond in any meaningful way Loki sighed.

“Fine, of course,” she assured and put on a smile again. “But you will allow me to ride him until I reach the palace itself, won’t you?”

Heimdallr squinted at her. “What are you planning, Loki?”

Loki sputtered. “What am I planning?” she gasped, “I am planning  _ not _ to overexert myself and go into labor before I am due!”

  
  


So Loki rode on Fenrir’s back all the way until she reached the palace. All eyes were on her, some in awe, some in confusion and bewilderment… most in fear and thinly veiled outrage.

What right did this witch have to bring her monstrous brood into Asgardia?!

Loki only smiled, her face mild and sweet.

  
  


Once she arrived at the palace door she had Fenrir crouch down so she could climb off his back. He did so happily and nuzzled her, wagging his tail as she thanked him.

She led him to the edge of the forest surrounding the palace and opened his bed there.

Guards came by, enquiring what was the matter with this gigantic wolf.

Loki gave them orders not to harm a hair on his pelt if they wanted to keep their lives. She further instructed that Fenrir be given a whole pig to eat every day - or anything that would be equal in weight - or else he’d run off into the forest to hunt for himself.

He would run off either way, but always return to his bed when he was done running around.

The guards looked positively horrified and confused. Loki reminded them of her power, and that she would know if any harm came to her son, so they rushed off to do as she told them.

  
  


With Fenrir taken care of Loki fixed her dress and made her way to the palace door, where she gave her name, to be announced as she entered.

Loki Laufeyjarsdottir, witch of Ironwood.

  
  


She came to stand before Hlidskjálf and bowed as best as she could, given her circumstances.

Frigg smiled as she rose from her seat by her husband’s side and went down to greet and embrace Loki, whom she hadn’t seen in years.

“Look at you!” she said and held her at arm’s length. “I’m so glad to see you glowing with life,” she added and glanced at the shawl, recognizing the runes embroidered into it. Concern flashed in her eyes, but Loki assured her.

“My mate likes to worry a lot,” she said and chuckled.

“Loki.” Odin called.

Loki quickly turned to face the Allfather. “Odin?” he breathed nervously.

“Huginn and Muninn tell me you brought your wolf with you,” Odin said, his tone and expression unreadable.

Loki put on a smile.

“But of course. I wanted my son to see Asgard’s glory and beauty for himself,” he claimed. Frigg put her hand on his shoulder, already seeing where this would go.

Odin huffed.

“More like you wanted  _ Asgard _ to see the  _ glory and beauty _ of your  _ son _ for themselves,” he accused.

Loki’s smile got sharper.

“Oh, of course. Tell me, Allfather, was it you who told Hermódr about Fenrir, so that he would not be frightened?”

Frigg chuckled.

“Actually, it was me.”

Loki’s smile softened immediately. “Thank you,” he said, sounding genuine for once. She mirrored his smile and gave Odin a chiding look. “Now, let me take you to your rooms where you will stay,” she said and put a guiding hand on Loki’s back.

Once they were out of Odin’s sight and earshot Loki dropped her imperious posture, sighing deeply as she cradled her belly.

Frigg smiled sympathetically.

“This one is taking a lot out of you, isn’t it?” she said and with the curl of two fingers she placed a comforting spell on Loki.

Loki smiled tiredly. “More than Fenrir did, for sure,” she murmured and relaxed a little as the spell eased away the ache in her back.

She looked to Frigg, “May I ask you how Lady Sif fares? And Ullr?” she wondered.

Frigg raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “Ah. That explains why she was adamant about having you at the wedding!”

Loki lowered her head.

Frigg gave her a pat on the back, “Nothing to worry about. Thor has accepted Ullr as his stepson already and Sif couldn’t be happier,” she assured.

Loki let out a surprised laugh.

“Is… is that true?” she asked and laughed when Frigg nodded. “Oh, that is wonderful!”

  
  


While of course she was glad that the mother and child she had cared for were safe and sound, Loki couldn’t deny a more selfish satisfaction upon hearing these news.

If her deeds were seen as good, maybe this would mean that she would be accepted again as an equal among the Aesir.

Or at least not as an outcast.

“May I see them?” Loki asked nervously. She braced herself to be told no, to be reminded of her position in Asgard, but Frigg only glanced at her, then nodded.

“Certainly. If you are not too tired?”

Loki blinked. “Oh… oh no. Your spell has eased my discomfort greatly. I could run about the palace for a good while now,” she joked.

Frigg chuckled and shook her head. “No you couldn’t,” she said and turned into another hallway.

  
  


She took Loki to the gardens and further to the sparring arena where - to Loki’s great shock - she saw Sif and Ullr sparring playfully, while Thor watched.

Ullr was almost two years old now. Loki hadn’t seen him since she’d sent Sif on her way home after assisting in his birth.

This same Ullr was now triumphantly waving his wooden sword over Sif, as she laid on the ground, groaning playfully.

Thor clapped his hands. “Well done, son! You have defeated your mother!” he cheered, “Now be good and help her up, or I will have to avenge her,” he added, laughing.

Ullr - ever the good boy - offered his pudgy hands to Sif and pulled her up. Well, he pulled and she sat up on her own, pretty much. She of course still thanked him and praised his swordsmanship.

Frigg cupped her hands over her mouth, “Sif! Thor! Ullr!” she called, and immediately all three turned to look at her.

Sif was the first one to see and recognize Loki - even in her female form - and picked up Ullr to run up to her.   
“Loki! You came!” she cheered and set down Ullr before hugging Loki. She looked her up and down and shook her head in disbelief. “It is you! You have changed so much, but I know it’s you,” she said. “I recognized the shawl you wore back then and now,” she added with a chuckle.

Loki laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Funny how I am once again in this condition when I meet you,” she said and rubbed her belly.

Sif blinked. “Hold up, does that mean you were with child when I had Ullr?”

Loki nodded again. “Yes. I brought him here with me. If you wish I’ll introduce you,” she offered.

Sif laughed, “Yes please. Is he with your partner? Or with a nurse?”

Loki opened her mouth, but stopped herself.

“Neither,” she said after a moment. “Have you not heard of the rumors about me?” she asked instead. Sif averted her eyes, almost guiltily.

“I have. But I refused to believe them, because you were nothing but kind to me. Is it true? Is your son a monstrous wolf who devours unsuspecting travellers?”

Loki huffed.

“A wolf, yes. Some might call him monstrous, I suppose,” she admitted, “though I prefer to call him an overgrown puppy. And no, he does not devour unsuspecting travellers. He merely drags them to Angrboda and my home, so that we may help them.”

Sif let out a relieved gasp, glad that the witch she had entrusted herself to wasn’t as evil and monstrous as people said.

After all, Frigg herself had supported her wish to invite Loki to her wedding.

Behind her Thor picked up Ullr and stood next to Sif, looking a bit unsure.

“Mother,” he greeted Frigg, then turned to Loki. “And you are?”

Sif spoke up before Loki could, “She is the witch that I told you about. The one who helped me bring Ullr into the world.”

Ullr perked up, recognizing his name. “Mama!” he said and reached for Sif, his wooden sword still in one hand.

Sif took him and he pointed the sword at Loki.

Sif was about to chide him, when Loki smiled and raised her hands. “Great Ullr,” she said softly, “may I give your mother, your father and you my blessings and good fortune?”

Ullr blinked, looking a bit lost now. He peeked at Sif, who nodded encouragingly. Seeing that his mother trusted this stranger he nodded too and lowered his sword. He instead offered his empty hand, waiting to receive Sif’s, Thors and his own blessings and good fortune now.

Loki laughed. She should have explained that these things cannot be touched, but she didn’t want to disappoint the boy, so she conjured three golden coins in his hand.

Ullr’s eyes widened comically and he immediately went to examine the coins that suddenly landed in his hand.

Sif mouthed an apology at Loki for her son’s behavior, but Loki was having none of it. She was simply glad to be welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a drawing of Lady Loki... I picture this to be her as she walks into the palace...


	4. Thunder and Smoke

Loki and the other wise women - priestesses - were led to the secret place of rituals, each with a blindfold over their eyes. Only Frigg knew the way to this place, and until her death no other would know it besides her.

Every one of them bore an urn, carrying things to sacrifice to the Norns.

Things the couple would no longer need after marriage.

Things like anger, mistrust, disloyalty and pettiness.

There would be various rituals, but tonight was about ridding the betrothed couple of things unwanted.

Loki couldn’t see, but she could feel the heat of a fire. Over the crackling of the burning wood she heard the chanting of the other women. One woman first, then the next, then the third and so forth until it was her turn to join.   
As she did Frigg removed the blindfold from her eyes, allowing her to stare into the flame.

The brightness nearly blinded her. She called out to the Norns to take her gifts, then threw the urn into the fire, where it shattered into a cloud of dust and ash.

In the rising smoke she saw things.

These things would tell her the words to chant in the next ritual.

  
  


The women stood around the fire until it had burned out.

Loki wished she could sit or lie down, but she couldn’t break with the prescribed way of honoring the Norns.

Frigg covered the eyes of all women and took the first one by the hand. She took the next, took the third, took the fourth until all were holding onto each other so they were led like a string out of the holy grove, back into the realm they called home.

As soon as they reached the familiar halls of Asgardia Frigg called a servant to help Loki back to her room. Frigg knew Loki was pushing herself, and she really didn’t want her to suffer any complications now.

Loki thanked her and handed back the blindfold before being led back to her room, leaning heavily on the servant by her side.

She had him help her to bed and dismissed him once she was settled.

She fell asleep before the door fell shut.

  
  


She woke late the next day. Reluctantly she called for a servant to help her. Usually she’d be able to rely on Angrboda, but now… here, in Asgardia… she was on her own.

The woman came in with a well practiced smile - hiding her contempt for the witch - and helped her bathe, wash her long hair, dry and dress herself.

Loki put on the shawl as always, reading out the embroidered runes as she ran her fingers over the fabric, hoping to strengthen their effect.

She wasn’t due yet, she could tell.

Once she was ready and dressed she dismissed the servant, thanking her for her good work, even blessing her as she went. She felt alone and vulnerable here, so blessing whomever she had to rely on was a way to protect herself.

It was hard to fake a genuine blessing - well, admittedly not too hard for Loki to be able to do it, but why would she?   
  


The servant girl looked at Loki, eyes wide. She stood there frozen until her body was overcome with a rush of warmth.

Her expression softened and she bowed to Loki.

  
  


Loki went to the kitchen - she had missed breakfast by an hour - and asked for a few things to be put in a basket for her.

A small loaf of bread, some smoked ham, some cheese, an apple and a drinking horn of water. In addition she asked for some raw meat, earning her a few raised eyebrows.

“It’s not for  _ me _ , of course!” She assured and took the piece - a piece of a cow’s thigh, she guessed - and wrapped it in a cloth.

With these things she went to the edge of the forest where she had left Fenrir.

The wolf wasn’t in his nest, but Loki didn’t mind. She sat in the grass with her breakfast and started eating slowly, waiting.

It didn’t take long for Fenrir to sense his mother’s presence and rush back to greet her.

He almost ran her over in his enthusiasm, but thankfully caught himself just in time. He flopped down in his bed and barked excitedly until Loki moved from the grass to sit right next to him.

They shared a relaxed - if a bit late - breakfast like this. Loki of course gave Fenrir the piece of meat she had brought, which he wolfed down immediately.

  
  


After the food was gone Loki sat with Fenrir, stroking his soft pelt as she leaned on him, telling him about this and that.

Of course she couldn’t stay with him the entire day as the pressure on her bladder was soon impossible to ignore, and she had to get changed for tonight’s ritual.

Another night of chanting around the fire, another night of exhaustion that had Loki in need of assistance reaching her bed.

She managed to get up on her own the next morning. She felt a bit weak still, but better than before. She washed her hands and face, then dressed herself and went to check on Fenrir - or, so she thought.

Approaching her door was none other than Thor Odinson, himself. He looked a bit embarrassed and awkwardly lowered his hand which he had raised to knock on her door as it seemed.

“Ah, you are up,” he said after a beat of silence passed.

Loki bowed slightly. “Yes. I apologize if I’m late for anything?” she said, raising an eyebrow. She knew she wasn’t needed until tonight's ritual, so why was Thor here?

Thor shook his head quickly, “No, not at all. Though it is rather late. Are you well?” he asked, awkwardly gesturing Loki’s middle.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“I was up till the break of dawn and I am carrying a near-term monster in my womb, but yes, I am well.”

Thor sputtered.

“Peace, Loki. Peace. I am…” he huffed and lowered his head. “I only asked because I had intended to come sooner actually. But mother told me not to wake you up so early.” He hoped his explanation didn’t anger Loki further.

Thankfully Loki seemed surprised more than angered, so Thor dared to try again.

“I merely wanted to offer accompanying you today for a bit,” he said. “And maybe get to know you a little,” he added after a moment.

Loki looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Why in the world would you, Thunderer, see fit to  _ get to know _ me?” she asked.

Thor offered his arm and out of instinct - or sheer surprise, maybe - Loki grabbed hold of his elbow.

“Why would I not?” Thor asked, starting to smile. “My dear Sif insisted on inviting you, and when I went to ask my mother about that idea, she went and suggested involving you in the blessing rites too! Of course I am intrigued and want to know who this witch is, whom my wife to be and my mother trust so much.”

Loki rolled her eyes.

“For starters, I am not  _ merely _ a witch. I am trained in the art of Seidr, sorcery and witchcraft, including blood magic,” she pointed out. She rarely cared to make this point but just because she  _ could _ she wanted to make the Thunderer struggle to keep up with her.

Serves him right.

Thor cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said quickly. “You are a shapeshifter too,” he pointed out, wanting to prove that he wasn’t as ignorant of Loki’s feats and skills.

Loki gave a sharp smile.

“Yes. As you might know this is not my … usual… form,” she said, gesturing herself.

Thor pointedly did  _ not _ look at Loki’s chest, though he did note that its size was… not insignificant. The area he was  _ avoiding _ with his eyes was rather large indeed.

Loki rolled her eyes.

Though her mood seemed to be slightly softened.

She sighed, “After all these years a woman’s word is all it took for you to see me.”

Thor blinked.

Loki looked at him, grinning. “Did you forget that I lived here for years before moving to Ironwood?”

Thor opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, closing it after a few seconds, seeming at a loss for words.

Loki chuckled and waved her hand in the air, conjuring an illusion.

It was herself - or rather himself. The young Loki Thor would probably remember, or well… should probably remember.

Who knew if the Thunderer had ever actually  _ seen _ him…

The youth looked at Thor, who looked back at the illusion with recognition slowly washing over his expression.

“That was you,” he gasped, reaching out just as the youth giggled and started running ahead, disappearing behind a corner into thin air.

Loki smiled and took the lead now, guiding Thor to the place where Fenrir was probably waiting.

Thor followed, still seemingly piecing together the two images of Loki in his mind, trying to understand that the youth he only ever saw glimpses of, whose pranks he remembered more than his actual face, was also the very pregnant woman who was leading him by the elbow.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard barking. Very loud, deep barking… accompanied by the thunderous sounds of paws hitting the ground.

Lastly he heard Loki’s voice crying, “FENRIR NO!” before he was buried under something heavy, warm and big.

Fenrir sniffed Thor all over, making sure he wasn’t a threat to his precious mother. Angrboda would have his head if he let anything happen to his mother!

“Back off, Fenrir. My love, he’s not a bad guy, back off, please!” Loki urged, finally managing to get the wolf off of Thor.

Thor laid on the grass for a good while, trying to figure out if he was just sore and breathless or actually injured.

Loki pinched Fenrir’s ear. “No! No attacking the prince of Asgard, they’ll have you served up for dinner and your fur made into a rug!” she threatened.

Fenrir whimpered and licked Loki’s cheek. Well… he was aiming for her cheek, but landed at her shoulder and swiped all the way up to the crown of her head.

Loki exhaled sharply.

Fenrir hid his enormous face against Loki like he was afraid of the strange man on the ground. His tail was wagging though.

Loki looked down at Thor who slowly sat up, patting his own chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said and ran her fingers through Fenrir’s fur. “He’s only a bit over a year and a half,” she explained.

Thor sputtered.

“A YEAR and A HALF?!” he shrieked uncharacteristically high.

Loki nodded.

Thor blinked. “He is the … the … you… you b-bore him after you helped Sif…?!”

Loki nodded again.

“He is the size of my father’s stallion! Bigger, even!”

Loki rolled her eyes.

“It’s probably due to my jötunn blood… it didn’t do much for me, but my children come out big,” she said lightly, though despite her tone, her eyes bored into Thor, daring him to find fault with her heritage.

Thor swallowed and lowered his head.

“If it makes any difference,” Loki hissed, “I am only half Jötunn. My mother was Aesir.”

Thor quickly shook his head.

“No, no, of course not.” He quickly assured and got up to his feet. “If your deeds are righteous and your heart is true, then it matters not whose blood you were born from.”

Loki rolled her eyes again.

“If you say so,” she murmured and led Fenrir to his bed. She wasn’t going to deny her son his much needed time with her, just because Thor thought he could pester her for an afternoon.

  
  


Seeing that he wasn’t needed - or even welcome for that matter - Thor bade Loki and Fenrir a good evening and left.

  
  


A good while later - Fenrir had fallen asleep, curled around Loki - Frigg went to find her.

She smiled at the scene before her. “How nice,” she whispered. Loki mirrored her smile and kept stroking Fenrir’s side as it rose and fell slowly.

He snored softly.

“Yes,” she whispered. Frigg kneeled by her side. “You know it is time,” she said.

Loki nodded and sighed. “I know. I just… wanted to be with him. I want to be with my… with my partner too…” she admitted, earning a quiet titter from Frigg.

“That is normal. I could barely stand to be alone when I had my sons,” Frigg told her and placed a light, gentle hand on Loki’s belly.

She closed her eyes and hummed.

“A strong one,” she said. Her expression showed no sign of distaste. Did she not sense that whatever Loki was carrying was a monster? Or did it not matter to her…?

“C-could you renew the spell you placed on me when I arrived?” Loki asked after a brief moment.

Frigg smiled at her. “But of course. I know the nightly rituals are very exhausting for you. I wouldn’t have suggested involving you if I’d known you were with child.” The faintest hint of accusation swung in her voice there.

Loki lowered her head. “I placed a shielding spell on Angrboda’s house when I first came to them,” she whispered.

Frigg said nothing. 

She understood and dutifully placed the spell on Loki.

She slumped with relief, leaning on Fenrir’s side for a moment. “Thank you…” she said, then slowly sat up again.

Frigg smiled and helped her stand.

“Fenrir, my love. Sleep well,” Loki whispered, earning a quiet grumble from the sleepy wolf. She then followed Frigg to join the third and last ritual.

  
  


In the following days Loki finally introduced Sif to Fenrir, which thankfully went better than Fenrir’s introduction to Thor.

After that they sometimes wandered around the palace gardens, Fenrir trailing behind them. These walks rarely lasted long as Loki really worried she might go into labor sooner rather than later, so she made sure to rest whenever possible.

Sif never complained of course. She knew perfectly well how Loki was feeling.

One of those days they heard a commotion by the stables but Loki didn’t want to go there. She was sure the stable hands would figure something out just fine, no need to interfere.

Sif agreed.

  
  


The stable hands did figure something out alright… it just happened to involve Loki.

Loki - who had planned to spend a nice afternoon walking around with Fenrir, Sif and her family - was approached by a stable hand, pleading for her assistance.

“Look at me boy. Do I look like I could wrangle a moody horse right now?”

The young man blushed and shook his head immediately. “Norns, no. No, not at all. I… we just…” he sputtered, bowing his head. “The stable master just said, that since we have a witch here, she should do her work and tame the beast!”

Before Loki could speak Thor had stepped forward, “She is not merely a witch!” he pointed out.

The stable hand cowered.

Sif pulled Thor back by his sleeve. “Also, she is an honored guest for Thor and my wedding, she is not here to work!”

Loki sighed.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll have a look. If I can’t help though, you go and find somebody else to help you,” she muttered somewhat bitterly.

Sif looked at her, “You don’t have to do this!” she insisted.

Loki shook her head. “No, it’s fine,” she repeated and gave Sif a look.

She didn’t want to be pitied or handled differently on behalf of her… circumstances. It made her feel weak.

  
  


She waved her hand at the poor stable hand, gesturing for him to lead the way.

Ullr, who was previously toddling next to his mother now ran ahead, confused by the sudden change of mood as the stable hand ran ahead.

Sif caught him and held him in her arms.

Thor chuckled and rubbed Ullr’s back. “Careful. Horses are nice when they want to be, but best not to get lost among them,” he told the boy.

Loki meanwhile turned to Fenrir.   
  
“My love, the horses will probably not tolerate you near them,” she said to the wolf. He whimpered and licked Loki, as if that constituted an argument.

“I know,” Loki said and kissed Fenrir’s damp nose. “Wait for me here, alright?” she pleaded.

Fenrir seemed to sulk, flopping down on the ground where he stood - blocking the pathway - and hid his face under his paws.

Loki let out an exasperated huff.

“I’ll come back right away, my love. Be good for me, okay?”

Fenrir made no promises, merely flicking his ear in Loki’s direction.

Loki gave up and turned to go with Sif and Thor to go to the stables.

  
  


After a brief walk they reached their destination and it didn’t take an expert to see that one of the horses was not behaving right.

The horses in the other boxes were agitated, and the misbehaving horse was barely being kept in check by the stable master and two more lads.

Thor walked ahead, “Careful! If anything happens to my father’s steed he won’t take it lightly!” he warned.

There was a loud neigh, then a yelp and a scream. Then a black stallion ran out, shaking out his wild, long mane.

Loki froze. She thought she’d faint on the spot. She’d remember this horse for the rest of her life.

To everyone’s shock and horror another horse ran out, just in time to block Svadilfari’s path. It was another horse Loki would never forget.

Sleipnir whinnied at Svadilfari, pushing him back with his muzzle, using his two additional front legs to further usher him back while supporting his weight on his other two.

Svadilfari huffed and shook his head.

Thor went to reach for Sleipnir, trying to calm him, while Sif stayed behind with Loki.

She couldn’t help but notice how her fair complexion had changed to look almost ashen now.

A man was carried out from the stables and the man who’d brought Loki here rubbed his neck.

“This one came a few days ago and… he wouldn’t leave, so we tried to put him with the others… but it…” he let out a long suffering sigh, “He’d only behave if Sleipnir was within his sight, and even then it was…” he gestured helplessly.

Loki steeled herself. She understood.

She understood perfectly well and she hated it.

“Let me,” she said and raised her hand to Svadilfari’s muzzle. He sucked in her scent eagerly and pressed his face into her hand more, huffing.

“You can’t do this,” she told him and his ears turned towards her, listening. “You have to be good for them,” she continued, slowly coming closer until she could pat Svadilfari’s thick neck.

Sleipnir pulled away from Thor, nosing at Loki’s belly before nudging her side with his muzzle.

Loki almost cried.

“Hello,” she whispered. She knew Sleipnir had heard her. He made a soft noise and nipped her lightly. She laughed. “You are too old for that,” she whispered to him.

Neither the stable hands nor Sif or Thor could hear her, but they didn’t need to.

These two horses treated Loki unlike they’ve treated anyone so far. Especially Sleipnir, who was obedient but standoffish and rarely showed affection even for Odin.

Not that Odin seemed to mind much… 

This was truly a sight to behold though.

It almost looked like… like Sleipnir was inquiring about Loki’s unborn child. That couldn’t be, of course. And also, why would he… 

Sure, Thor had heard that Sleipnir was actually brought to Asgardia by Loki himself - or herself? - back when she first stayed here.

But what horse got this attached to a one-time handler? Maybe Loki had fed the colt a few times or played with it, sure. But this…?

  
  


Loki told Sleipnir to keep Svadilfari in check and told Svadilfari to listen to his son. The stallion huffed and looked at Loki.

Loki said it again and this time he seemed to give in.

The stable hands carefully led Sleipnir back to his box and Loki led Svadilfari back to his box herself.

He seemed reluctant to let her leave but stayed put.

When she at last emerged from the stables again, Thor and Sif had a plethora of questions.

Loki refused to answer them and stubbornly walked back to where she’d left Fenrir.

He perked up as soon as she came into sight and barked, but she didn’t respond. Without realizing it, she was shaking all over, her skin clammy one second then hot the next… she stumbled then sank to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Thor reached her just in time to catch her head before it hit the ground. Sif stared in shock.

Fenrir rushed over to his fainted mother and whimpered helplessly. He had no idea what to do!

Sif went up to Fenrir.   
“Let me ride you,” she said, “we have to get help for your mother, right?” she said to him, hoping the wolf would understand her.

He whimpered.

Thor carefully cradled Loki’s limp body, making sure she was breathing at least.

“Find my mother. She’ll know how to help!” he said.

Sif tried to talk to Fenrir again and this time he laid down for her to straddle his back. Sif held Ullr to her front and grabbed onto Fenrir’s fur with her free hand. He ran off as smoothly as he could - carrying Loki around lately had taught him to run softly.

  
  


Only a few moments later they returned with Frigg. She rushed forward, picking up her billowing skirts and knelt by Loki’s and Thor’s side.

“Oh dear, what happened?!” she demanded, carefully pulling Loki from Thor’s lap into her own.

Fenrir nosed at Frigg’s shoulder, begging her to heal whatever was wrong with his mother. Sif dismounted his back and handed Ullr to Thor.

Thor shrugged. “She seemed fine until…”

Sif spoke up, “The stables. She helped calm Sleipnir and the other horse that came a while ago,” she explained. “I don’t know why but she seemed strangely… anxious.”

Frigg’s eyes widened.

“The horse… you mean the black stallion?” she inquired. Sif nodded.

The Allmother let out a noise of despair and put her hand over Loki’s forehead. Loki gasped and panted, trying to twist out of Frigg’s grasp at first but calming after she realized she wasn’t in danger.

Next her hands flew to her stomach, feeling for any signs of injury. Sensing none she finally turned to Frigg.

“What… where…” she whispered and Frigg shushed her.

“You fainted, my dear,” she told Loki and put a steadying hand on her chest to keep her from sitting up in a rush.

“I’ll have you brought back to your room now. Then I’ll see to it that you are taken care of properly,” she assured.

True to her words a pair of guards and a few servants came by with a stretcher.

Loki was placed on it and carried off. Fenrir whimpered and howled, demanding to follow but he wasn’t allowed. Frigg stayed behind with him for a moment.

“I know you want to be with your mother,” she told him, cradling his massive head. “Will you trust me to care for her? You don’t know it, but I taught your mother a lot of things when she was young. I know how to help her,” she continued.

Fenrir still whimpered but lowered his head in resignation. “Go to your bed and next time you wake up your mother will be whole and hale again, alright?” Frigg said, giving him one last push.

  
  


With Fenrir settled she went up to Loki’s room where the servants had settled her upon her bed.

Frigg sent them away and sat on the side of Loki’s bed.

She sang to her, a song of tranquility and healing.


	5. Golden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I am now very busy during the week, so I can't promise to be able to write chapters regularly now. I will try to get a chapter done once a week, but I might not be able to sometimes.
> 
> Anyway, here's the new chapter!

The wedding was indeed as amazing and grandiose as everyone had hoped. Thor looked every bit as godly as you’d expect from the god of thunder, and Sif was beautiful beyond words.

Ullr stood near the altar, grinning so hard he made himself sneeze. Nobody minded the small interruption as Sif shushed him gently and gave him a kiss so he’d stay put nicely.

In the end the ceremony was given its final rite of approval, as the women who had carried out the nightly rituals under Frigg’s leadership each came forward to bless both Thor and Sif, before handing over their wedding gifts.

Loki had prepared herself to the best of her abilities. She had even taken off the shawl, so it wouldn’t clash with her dress.

She waited her turn, then stepped forward, summoning the gifts she had brought from the satchel she had been carrying around.

First she handed over the circlet she had gotten made for Sif. It settled atop her hair perfectly, and it almost seemed to gleam with a faint light, casting glittering reflections across Sif’s hair. She wore it open today, letting it fall free almost as long as the train of her dress.

Next Loki pulled out the hammer she had made for Thor. Mjölnir, was its name. She warned him not to channel his power through it yet as they were indoors and the lightning Mjölnir would summon would probably harm everyone around them.

Thor looked both alarmed and amazed at the same time, reaching out hesitantly to grasp Mjölnir’s handle.

A quiet crackle was heard and as Loki handed over the hammer, a faint spark hit her hand and she recoiled.

Thor almost dropped Mjölnir as he jumped. “Forgive me!” he called out, “I… tried to hold it back but it just… it practically drank up the power in my hand the moment I touched it…” he sputtered and carefully set down the weapon.

Loki put on a smile. Truthfully the spark had sent a jolt through her entire body, making the hair on her neck stand up and her belly clench almost painfully.

“That was the last time I should be able to touch it. Now that it is tied to your power, only a man of your calibre can hope to wield her without getting hurt,” she explained through grit teeth.

Sif eyed her with concern in her eyes, but Loki shook her head subtly. She was fine. She _had_ to be fine!

Next Loki presented Odin with Draupnir, explaining how it functioned. Odin weighed the ring in his hand and nodded slowly. He seemed to appreciate the gift at least. So Loki brought out his second gift for Odin, Gungnir, the mighty spear that would always hit its target.

Now Odin seemed to be interested as he weighed the spear in his hands now.

He let out an approving hum and sat back down on Hlidskjálf, holding the spear as he would a sceptre.

  
  


Loki now approached Freyr, handing him his gifts and asking for his blessing on behalf of the married couple.

Freyr looked a bit hesitant as he reached for the gifts Loki presented him with. If he hadn’t seen all the other gifts before, maybe his distrust would have led him to refuse them?

He seemed to have a distaste for Loki’s use of witchcraft. Not that Loki cared, of course.

She handed over Skidbladnir and told him to unfold it when he was outside as the size of the unfolded ship would make it impossible to fit it within the halls of even mighty Asgardia’s palace.

Freyr bowed his head slightly and slid the ship into his pocket.

Lastly Loki summoned Gullinbursti. It appeared in a flash of golden light and came to stand before Freyr’s feet.

Freyr looked a bit confused.

Loki explained readily that this boar would be of great use to Freyr for various reasons, which seemed to satisfy the Vanir. He reached down to lightly brush his fingers over the bristly back of his golden boar and Loki imagined she could see him smiling faintly.

With all of her gifts handed over Loki turned to face Thor and Sif once more. She wished them a happy and fruitful marriage, then bowed and stepped back.

  
  


After all ceremonies and traditions were carried out it was time to feast and of course Loki was invited to join the table. She found herself seated next to Baldr of all people.

She had never quite gotten along with him, but she didn’t really hate him either.

They hadn’t really talked in the past either. The only interaction between them was when Baldr one night couldn’t sleep due to his nightmares and he sought Loki’s help.

All he knew was that Loki was Frigg’s apprentice, so he hoped he could help him. He admitted that he didn’t want his mother to know of his dreams, his nightmares.

Dreams that showed him dying again and again in various ways.

Eventually Frigg found out anyway and insisted that every thing and being in the world swore an oath not to harm Baldr, hoping to alleviate his nightmarish fears.

Baldr hadn’t spoken to Loki since.

  
  


Now that they sat side by side Baldr almost nervously turned to glance at Loki.

“Are… are you good?” he asked just loud enough to be heard over the excited chattering at the table and the music. “Thor told me you fainted the other day. I just…”

Loki cut him off, “I am fine, don’t worry,” she whispered. “What about you?”

She gave him a look.

He lowered his eyes and sighed.

“So still the same,” she muttered. “If you come to Ironwood, I will try to help you as best as I can. But while we’re here I can’t do much,” she explained.

Baldr nodded. “I know, of course,” he said, smiling softly. Loki knew it was genuine, even though the darkness in Baldr’s eyes didn’t quite fade.

“I’ll cast a weak sleeping spell on you, so you’ll at least get the rest you need,” she whispered and curled her fingers under the table, sending a gentle wave of Seidr his way.

He thanked her and in turn offered to help when she needed to get up to excuse herself.

  
  


She returned soon enough, but she looked a bit anxious.

Something felt… off. Like getting hit by Mjölnir had set off something. Loki told herself she was fine for now, so she acted like nothing was wrong - as best as she could.

She had lost her appetite.

While she felt like she could breathe more easily now - her unborn offspring had settled low in her pelvis now - she was too anxious to think of food now. She knew this feeling.

Maybe she should have kept the shawl on after all… maybe she should put it on now… maybe it could buy her time…?

Only ten minutes after leaving for the first time she excused herself again.

This time she returned with the shawl wrapped around her heavy belly. Of course it didn’t go unnoticed. Loki put on a smile.

  
  


She sat at the table for another half hour until she had to admit to herself that she had to go.

“Honored Aesir, great Vanir, men, women, children…” Loki started, gripping the armrests of her chair, “I believe it is time I left. I thank you for your hospitality and your gracious company for these past days.”

All eyes landed on her and she grit her teeth as she pushed herself up, Balder once again assisting, when she doubled over with a hoarse cry.

Frigg rose from her seat quickly and rushed over to Loki’s side while Baldr supported her until she steadied herself again.

“Loki! You are going into labor, you cannot go now! Let me take you to Eir and her helpers,” she offered.

Loki shook her head. “No… I mustn’t! I need… I _need_ Angrboda. Only they can help me now!”

Baldr sent a servant to Loki’s room to gather her belongings for her, understanding that she wouldn’t listen to anyone.

Frigg still tried, “Dear, there’s no way you could ride out to Ironwood now in this state!”

Loki shot her a desperate look, “Then _help_ me! I _need_ Angrboda. It _has_ to be them, believe me!”

Frigg looked a bit hurt, but smiled and pulled Loki into a gentle hug.

“I understand,” she said softly, “I’ll ask for the Norns’ blessing for you, your child and your mate.”

Loki teared up and nodded, bowing her head. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you!” she whispered.

The servant Baldr had sent now returned and Loki took her belongings. Frigg and Baldr went to help Loki, knowing she couldn’t reach Fenrir on her own now.

Sif excused herself as well, wanting to see off her guest personally.

Loki crumpled to the ground a few paces away from the palace, trying to breathe through her contraction.

Once it passed she simply called Fenrir’s name.

  
  


The wolf perked up immediately, letting out a howl before jumping up - picking up his bed in his mouth - and running to where his mother was.

He found her with Frigg, Baldr and Sif by her side, kneeling on the ground.

Loki smiled, “Hey, my love. It’s time to go home, okay?” she said and took Fenrir’s bed, putting it in her satchel.

Fenrir wasted no time crouching down so Baldr and Frigg could help Loki climb onto his back.

“Wait,” Sif called and grasped Loki’s hand, “I wanted to thank you. For coming, for being there, for everything,” she said and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “Good luck!” She let Loki go.

  
  


Fenrir took off in the smoothest gallop ever.

It didn’t take long before they reached the Bifröst. Heimdallr raised an eyebrow at the two.

“Leaving already?” he wondered.

Loki grit her teeth, “I have no other choice,” she hissed. Fenrir growled quietly.

Heimdallr didn’t move. “What could possibly force your hand, Loki Laufeyjars _dottir_?”

“I am in labor, Heimdallr. Bring me back to Ironwood before Angrboda comes here to get me!” Loki demanded now, a fire burning in her pale green eyes. “You don’t want the Sorrow Bringer, the witch of Ironwood, the terrible _She_ to descend upon your precious golden realm and tear it to pieces if any harm befalls me or my child now, do you?!”

Heimdallr’s aloof expression fell and he looked almost concerned for a brief moment.

With no further words spoken he led the Bifröst to land at the edge of Ironwood.

Fenrir rushed down the bridge as fast as he could.

  
  


The moment his paws touched the ground in Midgard, Loki screamed for Angrboda.

Fenrir raced them back to the witch house, where Angrboda was waiting already. They swept Loki off of Fenrir’s back and carried her into the house.

“Why didn’t you come back sooner…? You are so far along already, oh Loki…” Angrboda muttered as they placed Loki upon the bed, undressing her and laying out towels beneath her.

“Did your water break already?” Angrboda asked softly, stuffing pillows behind Loki’s back so she’d sit more upright.

Loki shook her head.

At last Angrboda seemed to relax a little, wrapping their arms around Loki as she breathed through her contractions.

“Was it good at least? Being back there, seeing Frigg again?” they asked, to distract her from the discomfort.

Loki smiled.

“Yeah. It… wasn’t always… easy, but… I’m glad I went there,” she whispered. She looked into Angrboda’s red eyes, blinking away a few tears. “I missed you,” she then said.

Angrboda smiled. “And I you,” they whispered, kissing Loki’s lips.

Loki labored all night until she was finally fully dilated.

The first rays of the morning sun crept in through the windows as she struggled to push out whatever she’d been carrying all this time.

Angrboda had long since gotten her off the bed and onto her feet, letting her hold onto the bedpost as she bore down.

They sat beneath her, helping and guiding while Loki did her work. There wasn’t much Angrboda could do at this stage.

They had realized a few hours into Loki’s labor that she wasn’t going to birth anything normal, but another monster, as expected. Knowing this they didn’t try to break her water for her, nor did they try to otherwise accelerate the birthing process, letting Loki’s body do what it needed to do, while supporting her.

Loki screamed and grunted through her contractions for hours. This one was much bigger than Fenrir had been upon birth, and it seemed… to have no set shape. It deformed against Loki’s birth canal and kept slipping back whenever she relaxed.

Angrboda couldn’t grab it either to keep it steady or even help pull it out… 

It wasn’t until about midday that the newborn came out with one last push.

Angrboda caught it, moments before having to catch Loki as she fainted from exhaustion.

  
  


They cleaned up and settled Loki upon the bed, then turned to inspect… the egg she had birthed.

It had a soft, almost rubbery shell. It was a translucent milky white, not translucent enough to see what was inside though. Angrboda guessed it was a snake or a serpent, maybe a dragon.

It didn’t matter. The egg was stable, and unlike Fenrir - who had to be held down upon birth - it was perfectly docile.  
The little creature within the egg wasn’t as docile of course, but while it was inside the egg it was safe.

Angrboda wrapped the egg in a clean towel and placed it next to Loki for warmth.

  
  


When Loki woke again, he had changed into his normal form without truly meaning to. He blinked sluggishly, feeling a deep seated ache in his body.

He didn’t dare move, neither convinced he was even able to, nor that it wouldn’t cause him more pain.

For a few minutes it seemed, he stared up at the canopy of Angrboda’s bed. It was so silent.

Not even Fenrir’s barking could be heard.

“Boda…?” Loki whispered, surprised at the sound of his own hoarse voice.

When did he last drink…? How much did he scream last night…? … What did he… even give birth to!?

Suddenly he is wide awake and pushes himself up into a sitting position, only to slump back again with a dull cry.

Moments later the door flew open and Angrobda stepped inside.

“Loki!” they called out, “Loki, careful, careful! You need to rest still. Only nine hours have gone by since-” Loki cut them off.

“Nine hours?!”

“Down, Loki. Stay put,” Angrboda said, ignoring Loki’s protests. They held him down until he settled and sighed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Where is it?”

  
  


Angrboda sighed. They pulled back the blanket next to Loki, revealing the lumpy bundle next to him. Loki blinked and reached over the … child…? and pulled back the towels covering it.

When his fingers finally grazed the rubbery shell of the egg he froze. For a few seconds he didn’t move, then - as though he was slapped - he ripped back his hand and nearly threw himself off the bed into Angrboda’s arms.

“Is … what… Is that… it?!” he sputtered.

Angrboda settled him back down on the bed.

“Yes,” they confirmed. He stared up at them. “It’s an egg,” he said, like that explained anything.

“Yes,” Angrboda confirmed again.

Loki blinked.

“It’s an _egg…_!” he repeated.

Angrboda looked at him.

“Fenrir is a wolf,” they pointed out.

“But I’m not a reptile!”

“No, you are a witch. And so am I. This is what happens when witches mate. Why do you think _nobody_ wants to fuck witches, no matter how horny they are? This is why. Because our ties to the Norns and Yggdrasil itself tend to tangle when we-” Loki cut them off again.

“I _know!_ I just… …”

He deflated and curled around the egg, hesitantly putting his hand on the shell. It was… so strange.

He expected to birth something that was… alive. Something he could bond with and nurture but this… was different.

He reached out with a few frail tendrils of Seidr, feeling for the shape and feel of his offspring.

A serpent. The serpent he and Angrboda had foreseen long ago.

  
  


With the serpent safely confined in its egg Loki and Angrboda could easily perform the spells necessary to transfer part of Angrboda’s heart. There would be no struggle, no fight with the serpent once it hatched. It would be as sweet and docile as Fenrir was now.

Even so Loki struggled to feel any attachment to the egg. He knew in his head that his child was inside it, but his heart refused to understand.

He left the egg in Angrboda’s care and instead busied himself with all manner of other tasks.

He refreshed his knowledge on venoms and antidotes - not really thinking of his child in this aspect, but merely finding the topic interesting - and went about brewing this or that potion, poison or remedy.

  
  


Angrboda didn’t comment on his behavior, let alone blame him for it. They understood in some way, how he felt.

They understood that he cognitively understood that he had birthed this egg and that within it was his child, they knew he’d love the creature no matter what shape it took, but they also knew that his heart - incomplete, broken as it was - was hard to convince.

Sometimes they even feared that he doubted the egg was truly his at all.

He had fainted immediately upon pushing it out, without even catching a glimpse of it until he woke again… surely there was a spark of disbelief in his heart… right?

  
  


But then, no matter how vehemently he denied it, he showed affection and care for the egg when he thought Angrboda wasn’t watching.

He would brush his knuckles over the shell, feeling for its temperature and tuck the blankets tighter around it sometimes; other times he would gaze at it with the faintest smile on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a mix of emotions.

Excitement, pride, impatience and rarely anxiety.

  
  


Loki had never feared his own children. He knew he never would. No matter how big and strong Fenrir would grow, Loki would not fear him.

Same went for the serpent.

His anxiety towards it had nothing to do with the fact that it wasn’t what he’d expected - though honestly he had no idea what he’d expected, really. It had more to do with his own feelings.

Especially when he sat with Fenrir, reading to him again, he couldn’t help but compare his feelings towards the wolf with his feelings towards _the egg_.

He had shifted from mild apprehension into bottomless affection within moments after birthing him - even as he and Angrboda had to bind the pup to keep it from harming them or itself.

When he’d given birth - in the brief moments of clarity before he fainted - all he felt for the thing was… _frustration_.

What a horrible thing to feel towards your newborn, no? Leave it to Loki to disappoint himself more than anyone or anything else ever could.

Upon waking, Loki found that he felt nothing towards the egg. It was even worse than the frustration.

Did it mean that he didn’t care at all about the child he’d carried until now?

  
  


He started weaving again once he was strong enough to sit for hours on his own.

  
  


Jörmungandr hatched two months after Loki birthed him in his egg. In those two months he had grown rapidly until his body filled the entire space within the egg, leaving him no room to move.

Angrboda named him one day, as they held his egg in their arms, feeling him squirm in the tight sphere.

Loki hadn’t commented upon the name, but he did start referring to the egg by “Jörm” soon after.

Now, on a moonless night, Jörmungandr was nestled safely between his parents. He used the dull horn on his nose to pierce the shell of his egg and twisted out of it with relative ease.

He devoured the shell that housed him for the past months, then started slithering about beneath the blanket, finding his way into Loki’s nightshirt, waking him.

Loki startled as he felt something cold and slightly damp sliding against his skin, sitting up and tossing the blanket aside. He stared down into a pair of gold-yellow eyes with interested, knife-like pupils.

That was when he finally knew that everything was fine.

Jörmungandr was his child, and Loki settled back down, wrapping his arms around the squirming serpent. He shushed Jörmungandr and pulled the blanket back over himself.

Jörmungandr settled soon enough, soothed - like any other child - by the familiar presence of the mother that brought him into the world.


	6. The Passing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, this took longer than I meant for it to take. I'm sorry!
> 
> I hope you at least enjoy this chapter now! ^^

Envy was practically radiating off of Fenrir, as he watched Jörmungandr wrapping his long body around Loki’s waist and snuggling into his chest; even more when he started speaking.

Unlike Fenrir, Jörmungandr can speak. Fluently.

Thankfully he wasn’t much of a chattermouth, but he did seem to enjoy talking to his parents, especially when Fenrir was around to overhear it.

Loki threw a tired glance at Angrboda, then at Fenrir, who was whimpering with his snout in the doorway.

“I’ll read to you later, my love. We’ll have lunch, and then I’ll be there for you,” he tried to soothe the wolf.

It earned him another whimper, followed by a quiet growl when Jörmungandr slithered from Loki’s waist to his shoulders, wrapping around them like a living shawl.

“ _ Feed me, _ ” Jörmungandr hissed softly.

“Patience, my love,” Loki soothed.

Jörmungandr started pressing his nose into Loki’s cheek, the little horn above his nostrils grazing his skin dangerously.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Patience,” he repeated and looked to Angrboda.

They were preparing food for the family. Well, firstly for the children. A whole boar for Fenrir and half a pheasant for Jörmungandr.

“ _ I am hungry… _ ” Jörmungandr complained.

Loki picked the serpent off his shoulders and mushed him into a ball in his lap, looking down on him.

Jörmungandr curled up obediently - for once - and peered up at Loki, his big yellow eyes wide and expectant.

Loki mutely looked down at him.

Sometimes he still struggled a little. Everything about Jörmungandr was different from his other children. Even Sleipnir, who he had almost no bond with. Loki had nursed Sleipnir for the first few days as he recovered under Angrboda’s care.

He had nursed Fenrir too, giving the pup all the milk he needed until he weaned.

But with Jörmungandr that simply wasn’t an option. Neither did he seem to need or even want milk, nor did it seem all that possible, considering the small, knife-like teeth lining his gums.

Don’t misunderstand, Loki would do anything - even let his chest be bitten by a newborn snake - if it was for the sake of his child, but… snakes need no milk.

Jörmungandr flicked his tongue at Loki, slowly rising up again to start wrapping around his neck.

At least this Loki could revel in. The closeness between his child and himself. He was touchy when he wanted to be, and with his children there was hardly ever a time when he didn’t want to be.

These children had been as close to him as anyone or anything ever could be - being carried and born from his body - so keeping them near felt like it was the only right thing to do.

Fenrir whimpered again.

Loki sighed and rose to his feet. He easily transferred Jörmungandr from his own neck to Angrboda’s. He then went to comfort Fenrir.

Despite being about two years older than Jörmungandr the wolf had yet to start speaking. He communicated well enough with the various barks, yips, whimpers and growls he used, but seeing Jörmungandr speaking so fluently with his parents made him feel envious.

Loki understood.

He sat next to Fenrir and cradled his heavy head in his lap, starting to run his fingers through his fur, scritching behind his ears, caressing his cheeks, stroking the side of his neck. This is something that he couldn’t do with Jörmungandr, so it was something that Fenrir cherished as a special, private pleasure he’d receive from his parents.

Jörmungandr didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t getting the same kind of physical affection from his parents as Fenrir. He seemed happy with what he had - an arm to coil around, a warm chest to slither up against or a soft thigh to curl up on.

Angrboda spoke to him in the language of the Jötnar sometimes. It was a habit from the time before he hatched. Loki had often refused to stay with the egg, feeling too estranged from the form he’d birthed, so most of the time it was Angrboda who warmed it.

They didn’t mind.

Jörm was their son too after all.

They let him lick oil off their fingers as they fried meat.

It didn’t do much to sate his hunger, but at least he wasn’t complaining anymore. He watched with his big, curious eyes as Angrboda prepared the meat for everyone.

Angrboda entertained him by explaining their steps to him. Jörmungandr didn’t really seem to care, but nevertheless he listened carefully.

Before long the food was done, and Angrboda indulged Jörmungandr by giving him a few extra bites.

Loki chuckled.

“Now who is spoiling and overfeeding our child?” he wondered.

Angrboda shot him a look.

“The one you overfed doesn’t fit inside the house anymore. This one is barely the length of my arm,” they pointed out.

Loki laughed, “Fenrir was small back then too,” he reminded.

Angrboda looked at him, the bridge of their nose and the tops of their cheeks darkening.

  
  


“ _ Food. _ ” Jörmungandr interjected, interrupting his parents.

Angrboda sputtered and fed Jörmungandr another bite of meat. They handed the other portion for Fenrir over to Loki.

Loki fed Fenrir, who growled happily now, his long tail flopping against the ground as he wagged it.

Jörmungandr perched on Angrboda’s shoulder, snapping up bites of meat from their fingers.

He glanced over at Fenrir every now and then.

The two brothers hadn’t quite found their common ground yet. Fenrir, who had been more attached to Loki most of the time, had picked up on Loki’s disconnection with Jörmungandr. Not to mention his envy over Jörmungandr’s ability to speak.

Likewise Jörmungandr was too small yet to actually play with Fenrir.

Though he did seem to think he could devour the wolf if he tried.

One of the first things Jörmungandr had said - or asked - upon meeting Fenrir for the first time, was “ _ Can I eat...? _ ” to which both Loki and Angrboda freaked out and immediately explained to their newborn snake-child, that No, he can’t eat Fenrir, that Fenrir is his brother, and brothers are not for eating.

  
  


By now it was rare for anyone to come to the witch’s house willingly. Few even dared to set foot in Ironwood for fear of being dragged off by Fenrir.

The terrible She and her monsters were a well known myth now. Whenever anyone heard a wolf howl, they said it was the howl of the fearsome Fenrisulfr, the wolf born from the bog, whose snapping jaws will drag you into the bog if he catches you.   
  


The other monster, people didn’t even know what it was. They only knew it was as terrible as its mother.

They say that nobody knows what the monster is, because nobody lives to tell the tale.

  
  


It serves them right, Loki thinks sometimes. They won’t come to Ironwood if they’re in need, so neither Loki nor Angrboda can help them. With their own fears they doom themselves. They cut off those who could save them.

It serves them right.

If they are too stupid to know that myths and stories are far from the truth, certainly not a source of reliable information, then its only fair that they die miserable deaths due to easily preventable or treatable things.

Loki is bitter like this.

Loki is cruel like this.

  
  


Loki never claimed to be anything other than this. He will do whatever it takes for his children, but everyone else can die for all he cares.

Angrboda found him again, hunched over his loom, weaving. They placed their warm, heavy hands on his shoulders, halting the rhythmic motions of his hands.

“Humans don’t understand the whims of the Norns or the gods,” they pointed out.

Loki hissed. “Neither do we,” he reminded and turned to look up at Angrboda. They met his sour look with an even smile.

“You know what I mean.”

Loki averted his eyes.

“You can’t expect them to understand things their eyes cannot see. To them our children are monstrous. They cannot see their true souls.”

“They  _ could _ if only they cared to look.” Loki muttered.

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot,” Angrboda murmured, their smile never faltering. “Wasn’t it you who said this?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed.

“These people think of us as boots. They can only seek to avoid us, lest we step on them.”

“Since when do you care? Since when do you want to understand their plight? What has gotten you to be all… soothing and forgiving all of a sudden?”

  
  


Angrboda lowered their head, their smile fading.

“Because… you… and our children… will have to live among them. Without me.”

  
  


It felt like a slap, like a punch,  _ a stab, a…  _

Loki blinked a few times.

He shook his head.

“No.”

“The Norns will it so, Loki. We will have a third child, and it will-”

“ _ No! _ ”

Angrboda cradled Loki’s cheek, tilting his head up to meet their eyes.

“The Norns will it so,” they repeated.

Tears welled in Loki’s eyes and in the passing of a single heartbeat he snapped, kicking over the bench of his loom, pressing Angrboda into the floorboards.   
  
“Say it again, Boda. Say it again and I will  _ hold you down _ myself to make it happen!”

  
  


Weeks went by, months even, and neither of the two ever mentioned the conversation they had that day.

They focused on their children - the two that they had. Fenrir didn’t grow much anymore. Loki guessed he had reached his full height at last.

Jörmungandr on the other hand was still growing. He was twice the length of Loki’s entire body now.

While it was a good thing on one hand - as the little snake could no longer hide in all sorts of narrow places - he was soon going to outgrow the house as Fenrir had long ago.

Despite his size Jörmungandr still preferred to sleep in Loki and Angrboda’s bed. He would slither up against Loki’s chest, winding around his waist, while wrapping his tail around one of Angrboda’s legs.

The family often spent lazy mornings, talking to each other. Loki would wake early - almost with the sunrise - and spend a few hours watching the sun creeping up above the trees. He stroked along the length of Jörmungandr’s spiky spine, or sometimes he would massage his knobbly forehead.

He was growing horns.

Once Angrboda woke, Loki often went to weave at the loom while Angrboda took over petting Jörmungandr.

After weaving Loki got dressed. Angrboda watched him with a wistful expression, like he was seeing a memory rather than a present image.

Loki never commented on it.

  
  


A drawn out howl announced the waking of Fenrir, and with that the family was up.

“ **Mother!** ”

Loki’s heart nearly stopped then and there.

He stared into Angrboda’s wide eyes.

“ **Mother…!** ” came another call from a deep, growling voice. The sound itself sent a chill down Loki’s spine, shaking his insides like a clap of thunder.

He rushed to the window and leaned forward where he saw Fenrir sitting almost on eye-level with him. He was so big…

He was looking at Loki excitedly, his tail wagging.

“Is … did you just…” Loki gasped.

Fenrir surged forward and gave Loki a lick.

“ **Mother,** ” he repeated. He didn’t so much  _ say it _ … it was like a voice deep inside him. He was fully grown now, and his soul had found its footing in his body.

He was… perfect.

Angrboda stood behind Loki, looking at Fenrir as well.

“Did you just speak, my pup?” they asked in disbelief.

“ **Mean-faced Boda!** ” Fenrir greeted.

  
  


Angrboda blinked.

Loki opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words to say.

Finally Jörmungandr squished his head in between his parents to look down at his brother. “ _ Brother… _ ” he greeted.

Fenrir was about to greet Jörmungandr when Angrboda slammed their hands on the windowsill.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING MEAN-FACED BODA?!” they shouted.

Loki broke into giggles.

Angrboda turned to look at Loki, their cheeks dark.

He laughed harder, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Mean-faced Boda, oh my love… I can’t…” he cackled and fell back onto the bed.

Angrboda looked like they wanted to choke and shake Loki a bit, and pull Fenrir by the ears at the same time, looking back and forth between the bed and the window.

Figuring that his morning was made for now Jörmungandr slithered up and out the window, using Fenrir’s muzzle as a bridge to get to the ground safely.

Fenrir let out a delighted bark and ran off into the forest.

“ **Brother, follow!** ” he demanded. Jörmungandr slithered after him, disappearing between the knobbly roots of the trees.

With Jörmungandr and Fenrir gone Angrboda straddled Loki’s hips and glowered at him.

He smiled.

“This is why,” he said and lightly pressed his finger between Angrboda’s furrowed brows, “This is why he calls you mean-faced, Boda,” he pointed out.

Angrboda pouted. Loki moved his hand from their face to their nape, pulling them down into a kiss.

“Let’s get up. The children will be hungry when they return,” he whispered against their lips.

Angrboda huffed and rose. “When you say it it sounds wrong,” they said. Loki chuckled.

  
  


Even now there was a darkness to him, an edge, something sharp, painful… dangerous… Angrboda knew what he was capable of, but even so they sometimes forgot. Living with him like this, seeing him vulnerable, happy, sleepy, excited, desperate or strong… it paints a picture of something so different from the vision Angrboda sees sometimes in the runes.

Every now and then they see glimpses of that vision though.

That day was one of those moments.

  
  


Just a few days later they would catch another glimpse.

  
  


When a messenger’s bird arrived. It was rare for messages to arrive at the witch’s house, so Loki and Angrboda were wary at first. The bird bore a ring of identification typical for Utgard’s court.

Did Loptr’s survival get revealed? Was anyone asking for his return…?

Well, kinda.

The message was from Byleistr and Helblindi.

  
  


“ _ Loptr, brother dearest, _

_ We have longed to hear from you for so long, and we wish we could have sent word sooner, but after your ‘passing’ we were under observation for failing to keep you safe. To lose a potential matriarch is indeed not taken lightly. _

_ Father kept us from harm for the most part, but it wasn’t until recently that we have gotten any freedom to do as we please. _

_ Helblindi is a scholar. You would surely be so proud of him. _

_ I hope it pleases you to know that I am a soldier now. I will take father’s place when the time comes. _

_ That being said… the time is approaching. _

_ After losing mother, and you so soon after, father has never been the same since. He lived to keep us safe but now that we are safe… well, his strength is running out. _

_ I know you are a witch now. I know you will want to seek us out, you will want to try to bring that mate of yours, you will want to save him, but trust us. It is his time. _

_ His passing will be due and rightful. I doubt this will ease your pain by much, but you don’t need to blame yourself for staying away. _

_ Stay where you are, safely hidden in the depths of Ironwood. _

_ If you ever need us, we will be here for you. You only need to summon us, we will stop at nothing. _

_ But not now. _

_ Father wishes he could have seen you one more time. We don’t know if he’ll be around at all by the time this letter reaches you. _

_ We love you, Loptr. _

_ Byleistr, Helblindi _ ”

The letter was written in the beautiful script of a highly educated member of Jotunn court. It was written by Byleistr.   
It was beautiful.

Loki couldn’t stand it.

  
  


He had long since moved past the pain of that past. The pain that ended Loptr’s life and created Loki.

He was fine.

But now… he wasn’t. The pain that had taken away his chances to ever learn this particular script, to use the crystal pens that Byleistr was allowed to use, to dress in the manner befitting a true matriarch, to go where he wanted to go freely, to love whomever he wanted to love… it all came back to him right now.

  
  


How terrified he had been, held down by a heavy hand upon his chest as his thighs were pried apart… the mind-shattering pain as the rings were torn from his flesh… 

It was his very own scream that alerted his brothers, who came just in time to save him. 

  
  


This pain was now taking away his father… a father he hadn’t seen in centuries… a father whose face he barely even remembered.

Last time he saw him… he saw the contours of his face faintly illuminated by the moonlight that reached past his hood.

What did his eyes look like…? What color was his hair… what… 

Loki set down the letter and ordered the bird to fly back without a response.

He had no time.

He had to do this fast, before his father’s time ran out.

Angrboda glanced at the letter Loki had abandoned on the table, then put two and two together and rushed after Loki.   
  
“That’s madness!” they cried, trying to hold him back.   
  
“I don’t care!” Loki snapped back, twisting out of Angrboda’s grasp. He rushed down the stairs and into the room that held all the potions he and Angrboda had made over the years.

There was one he was looking for and Angrboda cursed themself for ever telling him where it was.

  
  


He took and drank it without even thinking.

He had only a few moments left before he’d fade away. Hastily he called his father’s name, then his soul was peeled from his body, flying to Jotunnheimr in the blink of an eye.


	7. Light as Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops... I promised to post on Friday, but I guess my hand slipped~
> 
> ^^

Fárbauti’s home, his bedroom was a modest place. He had kept all the little things that belonged to Laufey once.

It was like she was never gone, like she could come back any moment, laughing at him for fearing she’d disappear.

In his dreams he sometimes saw her again.

She came to him here, smiling. “The children are sleeping now,” she would say and slip into bed besides him.

That was how he remembered her. Mother of his children, his proud sons… So fragile and yet so strong.

  
  


Byleistr sat by his side, unmoving, watching him quietly. Helblindi held onto his hand, unable to see him. His fingers jerked every now and then, squeezed Fárbauti’s hand ever so slightly.

Nobody else was here.

It was fine.

Loptr’s absence meant that he was safe still. That was all Fárbauti could ask for.

  
  


Fárbauti’s eyes closed slowly. He was so tired, his chest heavy, his mind clouded. He breathed.

He could feel Helblindi’s warm hands against his own clammy fingers… He could feel Byleistr’s presence as he moved closer. He was so big now… taller than Fárbauti himself.

  
  


Fárbauti drifted off into a pleasant warmth, dreaming his favorite dream. The one where the bedroom door opened, letting in the golden evening glow… and Laufey stepped inside.

She looked at him. Her face was thinner than he remembered, her eyes less soft… she came closer and in the light Fárbauti saw tears on her pale cheeks.

“Laufey, my love…” he whispered, tiredly lifting his hand to becon her closer. She blinked in surprise, her mouth opening ever so slightly.

Then she smiled.

“Father,” Loptr said.

  
  


Fárbauti froze.

He hadn’t heard the voice of his firstborn son in so long, yet his heart remembered the sound.

It couldn’t be but here he was… right besides him.

  
  


“Father…!” Loptr repeated and surged forward, sinking to his knees. He held onto Fárbauti’s arm, pressing his face into the warm, calloused palm of his father’s hand.

“Why in the world are you here?” Fárbauti asked desperately, “Your rings, Loptr, your rings!” he added to make the foolish boy understand.

Loptr shook his head.

“I’m not here,” he said and blinked away his tears. “This is but a dream. I used a spell to come to you,” he explained and curled his fingers in the air, making his body flicker for a few moments.

Fárbauti sat up in a rush, grabbing onto Loptr, “Don’t go yet then!” he called. “I’m not ready to let you go again,” he whispered, softer now.

Loptr pushed him back down onto the bed.

“I’ll stay until you’re ready,” he promised.

Fárbauti relaxed and stroked Loptr’s cheek with his knuckles.

“Even if I’ll never be ready?” he asked with a smile. “Won’t your mate miss you? Won’t your children miss you?”

Loptr faltered and closed his eyes, trying to hold back his tears.

“You know of my children…” he breathed.

  
  


Fárbauti laughed.

“Of course I do,” he said. “I know I will get to meet them in due time,” he added with a sigh. A deep, heavy pain was carried on his exhale.

Loptr bit his lip and hid his face in the palm of Fárbauti’s hand.

“Yes of course… I can’t promise Fenrir won’t find some ridiculous nickname for you, or Jörmungandr won’t try to eat you… but they will love you,” he sobbed.

Fárbauti chuckled. “If you say so,” he said fondly and pulled Loptr closer.

  
  


“I wish I could have met them… and your mate too,” he muttered after a while. He was running out of time but he still needed to say a few things.

Loptr blinked.

“They… they aren’t truly my mate. You know… they can’t bear my rings, nor do I bear theirs…” he pointed out.

Fárbauti sighed.

“A ritual does not make a mate,” he said and placed his hand over Loptr’s chest, it was so big, it covered his chest from shoulder to shoulder and from his sternum to his navel.

“Love does.”

Loptr scoffed.

“They’d deny it,” he said softly, but he didn’t argue.

Fárbauti chuckled.

  
  


“We still have them, you know?” he said after another moment passed. “Your rings.”

Loptr stared at him. His tears stopped.

“What…?”

“We kept them. Byleistr, Helblindi and I,” Fárbauti explained, “to us you are our matriarch still. Should you ever return, you will be honored as is befitting your status.”

“No way…” Loptr breathed.

Fárbauti sighed. “Of course outside our family… you won’t be safe. But here, right here,” he placed a fist upon his own heart, “you will always be Loptr, you will be who you are. Your true self.”

  
  


Loptr felt his heart break more.

  
  


“I am Loki now,” he said.

The name felt like a betrayal. Like he had just stabbed his own father’s back.

But the giant smiled.

“Loki Laufeyjarson. Or _Laufeyjarsdóttir_ ,” he said. Of course he had heard of Loptr’s new name too.

Loptr sobbed.

Fárbauti laughed, “Oh Loptr,” he said, “If I’d known I’d get to have a daughter and a son in one… I would have put two more rings on you!”

Loptr laughed through his tears.

“Oh please,” he said and wiped his face.

  
  


Fárbauti’s breath became shallow.

  
  


Loptr lost his smile again and cradled Fárbauti’s hand, rubbing his cheek against the cold knuckles.

“I am not ready to let you go, Loptr…” Fárbauti breathed hoarsely.

Loptr blinked through his newly forming tears and shook his head. “You don’t have to be,” he assured with a smile. “You know… I never knew it myself until I became a parent,” he continued, “sometimes things happen, that you’ll never be ready for,” he said and bit his lip for a moment, holding back a sob.

Fárbauti watched Loptr with tender eyes. His son had grown up so much… not in size, but in his heart, despite everything…

“You won’t ever be ready for this either, father. But that is okay. Mother will find and guide you when you arrive. There is nothing to fear. I’ll be with you until the end,” Loptr whispered, a lone tear running down his cheek.

“Helblindi and Byleistr are here too, remember? Nothing can happen to you now. You are safe, father. _You’ll be with us forever._

_You’ll be alright._

  
  


_We love you, father._

_I love you, father…_

  
  
  


Fárbauti died with a smile on his face.

In that moment Loki faintly heard the voices of his brothers calling out for their father, and then he was gone.

  
  


He came to in Angrboda’s arms. They blinked a few times, as though they didn’t believe their eyes at first, then tossed him onto the mattress and slapped him across the face.

“You. Absolute. FOOL!” they screamed, tears in their eyes. “Do you realize what could have happened?! Did you forget all that I taught you? Do you care so little for yourself!? You could have _shattered_ , I… WE could have lost you forever!”

Loki averted his eyes.

“Had I waited any longer he would have died without me…” he whispered.

Angrboda scoffed. “And you think I wouldn’t have let you go to him? I would have helped you, I would have kept you safe and stable if only you’d let me!”

The surprised look Loki shot Angrboda hurt them more than anything else.

“Did you think I wouldn’t let you…? What kind of monster do you think I am…!?”

  
  


Loki didn’t say anything.

  
  


It took a while for things to settle again between Loki and Angrboda.

“ **Mean-faced Boda was angry at mother…** ” Fenrir growled sometimes, repeating it to himself or Jörmungandr, as if that cleared up anything.

“ _We could have lost mother,_ ” Jörmungandr sometimes responded.

They would look at each other silently, then settle again and stare into the distance.

  
  


Fenrir rarely ran into the forest nowadays. He stayed by the bog where Jörmungandr liked to slither about in the mud.

What would be the point anyway? There were no more travelers and guests to guide. Nobody came into Ironwood anymore.

So Fenrir spent his time playing with Jörmungandr.

Not that he’s complaining, but isn’t it just a bit… lonely?

  
  


It wasn’t until Sif showed up in Ironwood with Ullr by her side that the family realized just how much time actually passed.

  
  


Ullr was five now.

Loki emerged from the house to greet her - and to intercept Fenrir and Jörmungandr as they rushed up to inspect the newcomer.

Loki wasn’t sure if Fenrir remembered Sif and Ullr, and he wasn’t going to risk having Jörmungandr try to eat them either.

“ **Lady Sif!** ” Fenrir greeted - Loki breathed a sigh of relief. “ **Little Ullr!** ”

Loki pinched Fenrir’s ear. “Ullr is older than you,” he pointed out. Fenrir grumbled. “ **Still little,** ” he muttered.

Sif looked a bit surprised. She remembered Fenrir just a bit smaller… and unable to speak.

Loki smiled. “Didn’t he grow up nicely?” he asked and gave Fenrir’s ear another pinch for good measure.

Sif chuckled.

“He sure did. The other one too,” she added with a cautious glance towards Jörmungandr who was flicking his tongue in Ullr’s general direction.

Ullr pressed himself into Sif’s leg, not quite willing to trust the horned serpent.

_Giant_ horned serpent.

  
  


“ _Mother…_ ” Jörmungandr started with a glance in Loki’s direction. Loki knew the question before he said it, and he quickly grabbed Jörmungandr by the horn on his nose.

“No. Not food. _Not food!_ ” he insisted.

Sif looked mildly panicked now and her hand rested lightly on the pommel of her sword now - she carried a _sword_ now! - while she pulled Ullr closer.

Loki smiled.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, “He asked the same about Fenrir when he first met him. It’s always his first instinct, but he listens to me, so… don’t worry,” he assured.

Jörmungandr flicked his tongue and slithered up against Loki’s thigh, mirroring Ullr.

Loki sighed.

“Why don’t you come inside?” he asked and gently pushed Jörmungandr aside. “Go play with your brother,” he told him.

“ _The bog?_ ” Jörmungandr hissed excitedly. Loki sighed again. “Sure.”

The two monstrous siblings were gone in the blink of an eye. It was surprising to see just how fast these two were able to move despite their size and weight.

  
  


Loki bade Sif and Ullr inside, where Angrboda was awaiting them. They sat on a chair with a tome in their lap.

Acting cold and uncaring.

Loki knew better than to trust the outwardly act of his mate.

“I’ll make you tea, and you tell me what brings you here,” Loki said, smiling at Angrboda as he went to get the kettle.

Angrboda knew Loki saw through them.

They were happy to see people, especially those that they had helped in the past. It showed that their efforts weren’t for naught.

Sif squirmed a little, unsure what to make of Angrboda. Last time they had interacted in any meaningful way was when they had helped her clean up after birthing Ullr.

Angrboda closed the book in their lap and set it aside.

“Loki told me you recovered well,” they started, glancing at Sif’s sword.

She shot them a glance.

“I started training soon after returning home. It helped me get back into shape and…” she cut herself off.

Loki returned with a tray holding the kettle and four cups.

“Is that how you caught your husband’s eye?” he asked with a smirk.

Sif blushed and busied herself with an out of place strand of hair on Ullr’s head.

“What does it matter now,” she asked and took a steadying breath. “That is not why I came here,” she added and accepted the teacup Loki offered her.

She took a careful sip while watching Loki kneeling before Ullr, handing him a cup too.

“Careful. I added milk and honey for you, but it’s still hot,” he told the boy and made sure he held onto the cup securely before pulling away.

He rose to his feet again and handed a cup to Angrboda before taking the last one himself.

“Now then, why did you come here?” he asked after taking a sip.

Sif set down her cup.

“I meant to come sooner but you know how the Norns are,” she said and shrugged lightly. “I have a gift for you. Or rather… a little token of my gratitude for everything,” she continued and reached into the backpack she’d been carrying on her back. She pulled a bag out and held it out for Loki to take.

“I remembered how that black stallion acted around you. And so I asked for an enchanted bridle to be made for him. Only by the time it was made you were gone and so was he. I sent a hunter to find him again and it took him until now to find and bring him back,” she explained.

Loki paled.

“The… you… oh…” he stammered. Angrboda stood behind him, towering protectively.

“Lady Sif,” they started, “do you know who that stallion is?”

Loki put a hand on Angrboda’s arm and shook his head.

He reached into the bag and pulled out the bridle. It shone with power.

“This bridle will summon him to your side whenever you need him,” Sif said as he inspected it.

“Very well,” he said and put the bridle back in the bag. “I will find good use for it, certainly.” He smiled a dark, dangerous smile.

  
  


Loki sent Sif home by nightfall. He knew she’d find her way home safely. He accompanied her with Fenrir and Jörmungandr to the edge of Ironwood where the Bifröst would land and take her back to Asgard.

  
  


He then sent his sons ahead, telling them he had something to do first.

  
  


When he was alone he used the bridle to summon Svadilfari. With a snap of the reins the stallion appeared before him. 

Loki held him steady by the reins and looked into his eyes. “Hello, Svadilfari,” he hissed and used the bridle to force the stallion to the ground.

“You will spend every night like this now, for eleven months,” he told him, binding him with a spell.

Horses rarely laid down on the ground, not even to sleep. It made them vulnerable for predators.

While no predator would be able to harm Svadilfari this wouldn’t lessen his distress.

_It served him right_.

Eleven months Loki had carried Sleipnir.

Now Svadilfari would pay for this.

  
  


Svadilfari neighed and grunted, kicking his feet as he tried to break the binding spell that held him down to no avail.

Loki turned to leave, throwing one glance back and smiling. “Have a good night, Svadilfari,” he whispered and disappeared.

  
  


Angrboda knew Loki had done something when he returned, but they didn’t say anything. That night Loki invited Angrboda to indulge in their desires for him. Not in such a way that he’d conceive again, but just for the sake of pleasure.

He cried their name and while he knew his voice wouldn’t be heard outside the house, a part of him wished his voice would carry far into the distance… to the edge of Ironwood to torment the one bound there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because I'm oh so generous, here's what my version of Angrboda looks like!
> 
>   
>    
> 


	8. Mortals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooopsies~ my hand must have slipped _again!_ Goodness me...
> 
> It's only a short chapter this time though...

Ironwood was unusually peaceful for a good while. After about a week Svadilfari’s distressed neighing and huffing died down too, and so even at night there was nothing unusual to be heard.

Fenrir howled every morning to greet the day, all was well.

Well, not entirely of course. Unspoken sorrows filled the air around the house many days, unseen pains, uncried tears…

Though he put on a strong front it was impossible to deny just how hurt Loki truly was at the loss of his father.

Being unable to even grieve by his family’s side… to share his brothers’ feelings, to help them, and be helped… 

Some matriarch he was, far away in a different realm, playing house with two monsters and a mate who won’t call him their mate…

  
  


Jörmungandr finally outgrew the witch’s house, having to stay outside with Fenrir. And even Fenrir didn’t seem to be as… attached as he once was.

Loki still read to them, but by now he was cycling through books he’d read to them once or twice before.

The two monsters still listened dutifully, staying with their mother for as long as they managed to sit still, but sooner or later they’d rush off into the forest.

They play by the bog… hunt… run about among the trees… who knows.

Many a day Loki spends sitting by the window, watching the trees in hopes of catching a glimpse of his sons.

  
  


Angrboda knows that Loki wants a child to care for. They’d rarely seen Loki so happy as when he cared for Fenrir… he longed for that kind of bond.

But he denied it time and time again; he refused whenever they tried to touch him, to give him the one thing he wanted… 

Or maybe that’s just them and their wishful thinking… who knows. 

  
  


Loki would weave often these days.

Sending prayers to his father, hoping that he found peace with Laufey; prayers that his brothers don’t hurt too much, and that he may one day see them again… 

And that maybe, just maybe the Norns have mercy and let him keep his mate…

  
  


The Norns know no such thing as mercy though, and one day the Allfather himself landed before the witch’s house.

Fenrir and Jörmungandr were ready to attack within an instant, growling at the stranger who so suddenly came galloping from the heavens.

Loki and Angrboda ran out of the house as well, both standing before their children, despite being smaller than them by now.

“What brings you here, Allfather?” Angrboda hissed, placing a hand on Jörmungandr’s horned snout to keep him from pushing forward.

“I am here to appease the fears of your fellow midgardians, witch,” Odin spoke. He glanced at Loki with an unspoken order to reign in his Jötunn mate.

Loki did no such thing.

“Appease?” he echoed, “our fellow midgardians?” He scoffed. “What terrible deed have we committed that the great Odin Borson sees fit to come here himself to fix it? As you may know we are witches in service of those who seek our counsel and aid. I delivered your adoptive grandson Ullr, I blessed your son and daughter-in-law’s wedding rites and I gifted you with the very spear you now point at my family and myself!”

Odin raised a white eyebrow and gave Sleipnir’s reins a subtle tug. The steed huffed and shook his mane.

Loki took a deep breath to steady himself.

Behind him Fenrir growled and snapped his jaws threateningly. His fur stood straight up, making him look bristly and dangerous.

Odin paid him no mind.

“It was brought to my attention that a gigantic horned serpent was spotted slithering about in Ironwood, which made it all but impossible for the people to safely wander about in the forest,” he said, turning his eye on Jörmungandr.

The serpent nudged his parents aside, rising above the Allfather’s height.

“ _I harm no man, nor woman, nor child,_ ” he said. “ _Nor does brother Fenrir._ ”

“ **I help!** ” came Fenrir’s comment immediately. Loki pinched the wolf’s ear.

“How would I know that you speak truthfully? Your cunning mother placed a shielding spell on you that even I cannot see past,” Odin murmured, pretending to be contemplative.

Loki looked to be ready to curse Odin into the furthest, forsaken branches of Yggdrasil, but he held back.

“Even if we pretended - for one mere second - that the superstitions and myths of _our fellow midgardians_ were at all reliable, what do you think you could do? You realize that your life is forfeit if you so much as harm a hair or scale on my children’s bodies, right?”

Odin sighed.

“You should not have given me this spear then, Loki Laufeyjars _dóttir_ ,” he said, reminding Loki of that very day… the day that he handed Odin Gungnir… the day he went into labor with Jörmungandr…

Angrboda growled, their blood red eyes seemingly on fire as they glared at the Allfather.

“You threaten my mate… our _matriarch_. I don’t fear your golden toothpick!”

“Then you’ll at least die with dignity, witch,” Odin said and pointed Gungnir at Angrboda’s throat. Loki gripped Fenrir’s fur with both hands, pulling him back from attacking Odin. In the seconds it took Fenrir to attack the man he could easily slit Angrboda’s throat. Not to mention that Sleipnir would likely be harmed as well if Fenrir pounced on him and Odin.

Angrboda spat on Gungnir.

  
  


Odin swung the spear and hit the side of Angrboda’s head, knocking them out and in the next breath he had turned the spear on Jörmungandr, banishing him from Ironwood somewhere Loki didn’t know.

He screamed and let Fenrir go, letting him check on Angrboda.

“WHERE IS MY SON, ODIN?!” Loki howled, gripping the hem of Odin’s tunic, threatening to pull him off Sleipnir’s back. “WHERE IS HE?! WHERE DID YOU SEND HIM; ANSWER ME!”

“Calm yourself, wench. Your brood lives, where it won’t harm or frighten anyone-” Odin said and pulled away from Loki, who cut him off, “Where, Odin. WHERE?!”

“The sea. That serpent of yours will grow long enough to envelop Midgard one day,” Odin sighed.

Loki growled wordlessly at the Allfather, unable to stop him as he ordered Sleipnir to carry him away.

  
  


Loki stumbled and sank to the ground in shock.

Odin had banished Jörmungandr into the midgardian sea… Jörmungandr… was banished. Jörmungandr was barely 3 years old yet!

  
  


It wasn’t until Fenrir nudged Loki again to get him to help Angrboda that Loki managed to gather his wits. He numbly dragged Angrboda into the house and treated their wound where the sharp edge of Gungnir’s blade cut into their temple.

The injury wasn’t life threatening, but it bled a lot as most head-injuries do.

Loki’s hands were steady as he cleaned the wound, as he sewed up the gash and as he applied the healing salve.

  
  


Angrboda opened their eyes after a while and immediately raised their hand to touch the throbbing spot on their temple but Loki stopped them.

“Don’t. We’ll let the injury dry a little, then I’ll put a bandage on you. Don’t touch it until then,” he said numbly.

Angrboda looked at him, their eyes widening. “Is… where… Loki! What happened?!” they grabbed Loki by the shoulders and shook him.

  
  


His head slumped to the side.

His hands began to shake at long last.

  
  


“Odin… banished Jörmungandr. To the midgardian sea.”

  
  


Angrboda blinked a few times, struggling to process this information.

“He said he’ll grow… so long he’ll envelop Midgard itself… I… I understand but… I hate… I hate it…” Loki tried to continue but his words failed him. Loki Liesmith, Silvertongue… at a loss for words.

Angrboda wrapped their arms around him, holding him so close it was painful.

“Go find him,” they whispered. “Ride out on Svadilfari and find him. If you can’t bring him home at least make sure he is safe!”

They pushed Loki back at arm’s length and stared into his eyes.

“I cannot defy Odin…” Loki started but Angrboda interrupted him, “Just make sure he is safe. Tell him I am fine, tell him we will always be here… I… I can’t let him be away from us without knowing that he knows this.”

  
  


Angrboda begged.

  
  


Loki rode out that same night. He rode on Svadilfari’s back for the first time, urging him to race faster.

Loki heeded neither the darkness nor the cold that bit into his bones as he came closer to the edge of the sea.

The salty breath of the ocean cut into his eyes and tore up his throat as he panted. He didn’t rest until he reached the coarse surf, wading into the lapping waves.

“Jörmungandr!” he called, cupping his hands over his mouth. “JÖRMUNGANDR!”

  
  


The waves murmured at his feet. Every now and then Loki thought he heard his son’s voice among the rushing noise, but realized he was wrong every time.

  
  


He called again.

  
  


At last a shushing hiss came from the depths of the sea and Jörmungandr’s head rose above the waves.

Loki wrapped his arms around the serpent’s neck and gasped.

“Jörm! Oh love, dear… oh Jörm…!” he sobbed.

“ _Mother…_ ” Jörmungandr whispered. Loki shushed him.

“Boda is fine. Boda sent me to tell you this, my love,” he said quickly, reaching up to kiss Jörmungandr’s snout and horns.

Jörmungandr relaxed, slithering a bit closer to wrap around Loki.

“ _Mother, stay._ ”

Loki wiped his tears before they could fall.

“But what of Fenrir? What of Boda?” he asked and pointed at the barren beach. It was too cold here for anything to grow.

Jörmungandr let out a hissed sigh.

“My love, be good. I will come to you whenever I can. Boda will come to you whenever they can, as will Fenrir. We are your family, my love. We will always find you,” Loki assured, kissing Jörmungandr’s snout a few more times.

“Be good. The sea is rich. You won’t have to go hungry. Stay away from the mortals. Stay safe!”

Jörmungandr lowered his head and averted his golden eyes. Could a serpent cry? Loki realized that he didn’t know. He had never seen his son cry…

“Be good. For me. For Boda and Fenrir. For all of us,” he whispered and held his son one more time.

He barely felt the stabbing pain in his feet anymore. His toes were numb from the cold.

  
  


He stood there and watched Jörmungandr slither into the waves. He stood until even the shimmering of his scales had faded into the dull teal of the sea.

  
  


Loki didn’t have the strength to rush home.

He grabbed Svadilfari’s reins and walked slowly, swaying.

He watched the sun rise, watched his white breath fade into the warmth of the day, watched as each passing tree appeared greener than the one before it.

In the silence of the waking world he was alone with his thoughts.

Svadilfari didn’t dare neigh or huff at Loki, understanding that his master had no love for him left.

  
  


Ironically, among all the swirling thoughts and feelings, the one that Loki felt most strongly was relief at hearing Angrboda refer to him as their mate, their matriarch.

His father was right after all.

  
  


The thought within him started to grow. It formed roots that dug deep into his heart, and branches that would reach beyond his fingertips if only he let them.

Matriarch.

As a matriarch Loki would have the means to protect his children.

  
  


If only Angrboda gave him this, the honor of being taken rightfully, as an equal partner, a true mate… if only he’d be given their rings to bear… if only…

  
  


By the time Loki arrived back in Ironwood night had fallen again.

He found his way home in the dark and slipped into bed next to Angrboda.

They spoke no words at all and only wrapped their arms around him. They wept.


	9. Little White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me.

You’d think that Loki’s resolve would falter after this. You’d think that his desire for a child to love and nurture would be stronger now that he lost Jörmungandr in a sense.

You’d be wrong.

Loki knew now that he was Angrboda’s mate. He knew that they’d deny it again if he asked, so he never did. But he was sure of the little sliver, deep in their heart, that considered him their only rightful mate.

Thus he would not let himself be taken as a casual partner anymore.

Angrboda would have to force him or make him their mate before he let them touch him again in that way.

  
  


Deep down, a dark and scary place within him hoped that Angrboda would never surrender their rings. That they’d let their love for Loki run out for good and just… never sire that cursed third child the Norns foretold.

  
  


At first Angrboda accepted Loki’s distanced demeanor. They understood just how hurt he was, having his son taken from him like that… 

It hurt them too after all. After all the care they’d given Jörmungandr they couldn’t help but resent the fact that he was taken away by the damned Allfather.

Sure, Loki and Angrboda could watch over him when they looked into the wise waters they kept in the cellar, but how could that ever be enough for them?

  
  


After a while though they grew impatient. Was it so wrong to seek comfort in the affection of their partner? … their mate?

Hadn’t Loki once enjoyed it too? Being held, being given the chance to let it all out, to just… stop putting on a mask, to just fall apart, knowing he’d be held safe and warm…?

So how was it that Loki slipped out of their grasp, brushed away their hands or pulled away from their fingers when they tried to hold him, soothe him…?

  
  


They never tried to force him. They knew too well just what had happened to him in the past.

Still, one night they tested him on his resolve until he fought back.

He meant it.

“But why, Loki?!” Angrboda asked. They knew his love for them hadn’t faded. They just knew. So why…?

Loki adjusted his nightshirt again and slipped under the covers, turning his back on Angrboda to hide his tears.

Angrboda caressed the side of his ribcage down to his hip. He let them.

“Tell me,” they whispered into his ear.

  
  


“Would you let me go?” he asked, turning to face them. Angrboda leaned over him. “Well?” He raised an eyebrow.

Angrboda sat back, staring at him still.

“Let you go?”

Loki nodded.

“Where to? Where would you go?” they asked, grabbing Loki’s hand, fearing he might run off the moment they said anything that wasn’t “no”...

Loki stayed put.

“Anywhere,” he said nonchalantly.

Hurt flashed across Angrboda’s face.

“You’d… you’d rather go  _ anywhere _ … than stay here? With me?” they whispered, their voice brittle.

“Would you abandon me for good if I left? Would you cast me out?” Loki asked instead of giving an answer.

Angrboda hesitated. For one moment they wanted to say “yes”, just one moment.

Loki saw it.

“No. I’d welcome you back when the time came,” they said, letting out the breath they’d been holding.

“For Fenrir’s sake you would,” Loki pointed out.

  
  


Angrboda frowned and grit their teeth. Loki was right, and he knew it.

“But  _ why _ , Loki. You haven’t answered my question!”

Loki sighed and curled up on his side, hiding.

“...” He wanted to respond. He wanted to tell Angrboda the truth; explain that he merely feared to lose them. He wanted to tell them that he couldn’t bear to lose them after all they’d been through together, after all they’d done for him… but how could he possibly put it into words.

How could he ever say out loud what he felt?

How could he commit to his truth if Angrboda kept denying theirs?

  
  


Angrboda shunned commitment.

They had left Jötunnheimr for reasons not unlike Loki’s own.

They had early in life decided that their rings would be theirs to keep. That submitting to another in that way would be throwing away a part of themself they’d never be given back.

Far from other Jötnar, far from any other people at all, in the depths of Ironwood they made a home for themself.

Meeting Loki -  _ lítid Hvítt _ , as they called him before they knew his name - had only strengthened them in their opinion that submitting was giving up part of oneself.

When he returned in his true form, a changed person, they let him stay for some reason. Maybe because they felt no desire in him to dominate them. He never tried to win the upper hand between them. He was a willing student.

When he offered his body in exchange for knowledge he did so again from a position of submission.

He treated it as a transaction. Pleasure in exchange for knowledge.

  
  


By the time Angrboda realized how deeply they’d fallen for him, he already bore them Fenrir.

Still they couldn’t commit. It was a step they couldn’t take. Not with someone like him. Sure, they loved him, somehow, in some part of their soul… but a part of them feared him too.

They knew what he was capable of.

Could they really bind themself to someone like that? They hadn’t missed how Svadilfari seemed changed now, how the once proud stallion cowered at the mere sight of Loki’s shadow.

They knew how he’d gotten the names Liesmith and Silvertongue back in Asgard. It wasn’t for his honesty, that’s for sure.

They vividly remembered how he had threatened them.

  
  


But then… hadn’t he always been pushed one way or another to his actions? Wasn’t he right to inflict punishment on the one who ruined him? Wasn’t he right to fight back against a society that treated him as an outsider, that kept belittling him for a mistake he regretted himself?

Hadn’t he lashed out at them for a very understandable reason? Hadn’t they known in that very moment, that he never meant what he said then and there?

  
  


Hadn’t the Norns given them the power to stay Loki’s hand?

Loki was capable of so much more, so much worse! So wasn’t it worth the effort to stay with him? To keep him from going too far?

If only Angrboda had an answer.

For now, all they could do was accept Loki’s silence. They still didn’t know why he acted like this, but they at least realized that they themself were still keeping him at a distance.

It was only fair for him to do the same in turn.

Even if it hurt.

  
  


Fenrir ran away.

He always returned, but sometimes it took a few days, maybe even a week.

The first times Loki and Angrboda worried a lot, staying up late in hopes of seeing their son return after all.

When the familiar howl returned the next morning both were so glad he was back, all tension between them was forgotten. They were simply glad to be back together, a family.

Only Jörmungandr was still gone.

In time Loki and Angrboda realized just how big he’d grown in the sea. His growth was even faster than it was on land.

By now he couldn’t return to dry land even if he wanted to.

  
  


He raged sometimes. He sank ships and devoured the sailors, leaving no evidence behind.

Cursed mortals, forcing him to be separated from his family. Cursed mortals, calling on Odin, to have him banished.

Cursed mortals.

  
  


Jörmungandr was pretty sure his parents knew of his actions.

They were witches after all.

They knew, for sure.

  
  


Still he felt safe giving in to his anger every now and again. The cursed mortals deserved it after all.

  
  


It wasn’t until he raged once more, taking the bait of a fisherman - wanting to sink the ship after frightening the poor men - that he realized he might have made a mistake.

He didn’t get to think about his actions when Mjölnir collided with his head, sending him into the depths of the sea again, trailing blood.

  
  


Loki and Angrboda fought that day.

Both knew they were lashing out at each other more than anything else. Both knew there was no point to this dispute and yet, their feelings burned too hot to just sit down and be reasonable.

How could Loki possibly stay calm anyway? Angrboda still refused to understand that siring another child would be suicide.

And how goddamn willing they were… to lay down their life for another child… 

Loki couldn’t stand it.

  
  


At the same time Angrboda was so desperately trying to make Loki understand. In their mind this child’s existence was a fact. They made their peace with that, but the more Loki denied it, the more they felt like he was trying to  _ kill _ this child before it was even born.

The Norns don’t play fair! Shouldn’t Loki know this by now?!

How could he be so stubborn, so damn cruel in the way he tried to shatter hopes before they even arose…!

Wasn’t it Angrboda’s life to give anyway? It’d be their death, not Loki’s. What right did he have to decide this…?

  
  


If only Angrboda understood.

But they had never even considered submitting the way Loki had.

Loki knew what he gave up when he submitted, when he took what was given to him, be it by force or love.

What did it matter now anyway… wasn’t it all the same in the end?

  
  


When they saw what’d happened to Jörmungandr there was nothing Angrboda could have said to keep Loki from leaving.

He summoned Svadilfari and rode to Asgard.

  
  


Heimdallr tried to stop him from rushing into the palace to seek out Thor, but Loki evaded him by using his magic.

He appeared before Thor like a vengeful spectre, his eyes bright green slits.

  
  


“Is this how you repay the gift I gave you? Is this how you thank me for blessing you and Sif’s marriage? By striking down my son with the very hammer I gave you?!” he spat, putting a knee on Thor’s chest as he held him down upon the mattress.

Thor hadn’t expected Loki - or anyone for that matter - to seek him out at this time. He had been lazing about in bed, reading.

Sif was training with Ullr, all his tasks and duties were taken care of… so how could he have anticipated… this?!

“What… even…” Thor gasped, trying to breathe beneath the weight of Loki’s body.

Loki’s trembling hands threatened to wrap around Thor’s throat.

“I was trying to catch some fish, not your  _ son _ , Norns!” Thor yelled. He pushed Loki off and rose to his feet.

“Your son took my bait. How was I supposed to know it was him at that moment? When I pulled him up he almost spat poison at me and my companion. I was startled and struck him before I’d even fully realized what’d happened!” Thor explained.

Loki opened his mouth to argue, but Thor wasn’t done.

“Not to mention, your son has been wreaking havoc at sea, did you know that? He sank ships and killed men!”

“ _ MY SON IS FOUR! _ ” Loki screamed.

  
  


Thor fell silent now.

“My son is  _ four _ years old,  _ separated _ from his parents and elder brother, in a cold, vast ocean, among mortals who fear and  _ hate him! _ ” Loki spat.

Only Loki’s agitated panting could be heard for a while.

Then… 

“I’m sorry.”

Loki blinked up at Thor, disbelief written across his face.

“What…?” he breathed, so completely caught off guard by Thor’s apology.

The thunderer stepped forward and put a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I struck your son,” Thor said again, slower. “I just… imagined putting Ullr through something like that, and I… I’d hate letting such a thing happen. I can’t begin to understand what it feels like for you.”

Loki seemed to shrink under Thor’s hand, until he was nearly bent in half, sobbing.

Thor watched Loki for a moment, then - somewhat helplessly - put his arms around him, rubbing his back as he cried.

  
  


Sif came back with Ullr - thankfully asleep on her back, worn out from the training - and was rather surprised to see Loki in her husband’s arms.

She put Ullr to bed, then sat with Thor and Loki, trying to find out what happened.

  
  


Loki was embarrassed and reluctant. He hadn’t been able to keep up his cold facade around Thor of all people, crying  _ in his arms _ of all places… if Sif wasn’t insistent on keeping him there and helping him, he would have ran away and put a forgetting spell on Thor.

So instead, sitting next to Sif now as she held his hand, he told them all that had happened since they last met.

He told them of his father’s death.

“Your father,” Thor whispered, “Laufey? Isn’t Laufey a woman’s name though?”

Loki gave a sad smile.

“No. Laufey was my mother. She was born in Asgard. So when I moved to Asgard, it felt right to take her name,” Loki explained. “My father was Fárbauti.”

He glanced at Sif, then Thor. Both exchanged a look, then looked at Loki.

“Fárbauti… you mean…  _ that _ Fárbauti?” Thor asked.

Loki smiled a bitter smile now.

“Utgard-Loki’s strongest soldier, yes. Well… I believe that title now belongs to my brother, Byleistr.”

Sif huffed.

“You are Fárbauti’s first born. You are Loptr!” she gasped and shook her head. “And we had no idea!”

Sif laughed now.

“Loptr Fárbautason delivered my son…!”

  
  


Loki blushed a little and averted his eyes.

“How do you even know of that name…” he wondered quietly.

Thor rubbed the back of his head, tangling his fingers in his hair to try and distract himself.

“Well…” he said after Sif stopped laughing. “I heard from my father that a Jötunn matriarch was killed…”

Loki scoffed.

“I was no matriarch,” he said.

“But a potential matriarch, right? As Fárbauti’s first born-” Loki cut Thor off. “As  _ Laufey’s _ first born. Laufey was matriarch until her death. Afterwards Fárbauti would rule the tribe until I came of age…”

The room fell silent again.

Loki suspected the two of them knew  _ how _ Loptr was killed too, or at least had a vague idea of it.

He didn’t ask to confirm it.

He moved on to Jörmungandr’s banishment, telling Thor and Sif how Odin showed up out of nowhere, how he threatened Angrboda and struck them before banishing Jörmungandr.   
He told them how he rode Svadilfari all night, how he parted with his son, and how his and Angrboda’s relationship deteriorated afterwards.

  
  


The three of them sat silently for a while after Loki finished his tale.

Neither Sif nor Thor dared to speak up; not after what they’d heard.

  
  


So it was Loki in the end, who first spoke again.

“Won’t you accompany me to Jötunnheimr, Thor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, seriously... please don't kill me!


	10. The Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's ignore how it's taken me way too long to post anything... and let's just not ask when the next chapter will come, okay?
> 
> I'm sorry.  
> I hope you enjoy this little chapter!

Loki and Thor departed soon after.

Svadilfari was left behind in the stables, and Loki thought he could see something like relief or even joy in the way the stallion greeted Sleipnir.

Loki rode in Thor’s chariot, which was drawn by the goats Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr.

Traveling along the winding paths of Yggdrasil didn’t take long, if you knew the way, and Loki knew the various paths into Jötunnheimr like the back of his hand.

Still, it took long enough for sól to set and night to fall.

In the bronze haze of dawn the two find a peasant’s house.

They are invited to stay the moment their identities are revealed, the frightened mortals ready to lay down all they have to please the gods that found their way to their humble home.

Thor assured them that they should keep their food and drink for themselves. He had provisions for himself after all.

Loki gratefully accepted the family’s offer to join their table, in turn offering to give advice and read fortunes for them.

Thor slaughtered his goats, carefully saving the skin and bones, while serving the meat to be eaten.

The two children of the family Thiálfi and Röskva were hesitant to approach the gods at first, as their parents were clearly nervous around them.

Loki saw the anxious gaze of their mother, as it flitted from the gods to her children and back whenever anyone moved.

He sat by her.

“How old are your children?” he asked her and took her hand into his own, tracing the lines of her palm with his seidr, reading.

The woman’s face turned white, then red.

“My Thiálfi is seventeen, and my darling Röskva fourteen,” she said. Loki smiled. “You don’t look it,” he told her and lowered her hand.

“I can see you are in good health, and a healthy mother makes healthy children,” he added, glancing at the edge of the bench, where the two children sat.

The family’s father bristled, and stood next to his wife - even he didn’t dare to shove Loki off the bench to take his seat by his wife’s side.

“If you would please mind your manners, and keep your hands off my wife…” he grunted.

Loki laughed.

“Me? Oh, my good sir,” he giggled, “I am but a humble witch. I seek to heal and counsel,” he assured. “Ask this companion of mine,” he added with a nod in Thor’s direction.

Thor, who’d just cut the meat of a goat’s leg, set down the bone and wiped his hands, to agree. He nodded and gestured in Loki’s direction.

“Yes, yes! It is he who delivered my wife’s first son, and blessed her and my marriage! Even Frigg, Allmother, favors him.”

With the Thunderer’s blatant approval the two peasants couldn’t doubt Loki’s intentions anymore, and soon the table was filled with food and good chatter.

They spoke about the joys and woes of parenthood, about ways to ease one’s child’s path in life and so forth.

Loki interrogated the runes for the family, and promised to weave a few prayers for them as thanks for their hospitality.

The night grew late and the meat scarce. Bones were cracked, marrow sucked… Mead flowed freely and at long last the feast came to an end.

  
  


With the next morning came a troubling realization.

One of the goats’ bones must have gotten mixed up with the others, as it was now broken. Tanngrisnir limped and bleated pathetically.

Thor growled, his fingers itching for a good hard rock to punch.

The peasant family was quick to kowtow and apologize, terrified to incur Thor’s mighty wrath.

They hastily tried to place the blame on someone, hoping to save their home at least, if not each other.

Seeing this Loki stepped in.

“Then hand over both of them,” he said coldly. “A strong boy and a fair maiden will serve us well,” he added, reaching a steady hand towards Thiálfi and Röskva.

Their faces fell immediately, sinking to their knees in sobbing heaps.

Their parents looked no better.

Loki smiled.

“What? Weren’t you eager to blame your hungry children for the mistake?” he asked, beckoning the boy and girl to come closer.

“Now they’ll never go hungry again,” Loki boasted and as the siblings came into his reach he pulled them to his side, scoffing.

“Let us go, Thor. It’ll be another day or two till we reach Jötunnheimr yet.” he said. Thor watched the interaction, fists jerking, but said nothing else.

Once they had left the peasant home behind, he turned to Loki.

“What are you doing, taking these two from their family?” he hissed.

Loki met his gaze calmly, his hands still on either of the children’s back.

“I am giving them the chance to achieve glorious purpose, far from parents who’d blame them to save their own skin,” he said quietly, “With a few months of training, this boy can be a companion for Ullr, and dear Röskva will surely be a welcome friend for Lady Sif, when she bears you a child.”

Thor wanted to protest, but then… Loki’s words sank in.

“You said  _ when _ , not  _ if _ … right?” he said. Loki smiled, and nodded.

  
  


With that the Thunderer’s spirit was lifted and he didn’t complain about having two additional companions to protect.

The two of them were quick to offer their help, carrying the bags they now couldn’t just transport with the chariot. Thor put the chariot and the goats away into a pocket dimension, waiting for Tanngrisnir to recover.

Now the rest of the way they’d go on foot.

  
  


They traveled another day, then found a cave to rest in. It was surprisingly warm, possibly formed along the paths of Yggdrasil that led straight to Múspellheimr…

Deeming it to be a fitting place to stay overnight, the group settled down and went to sleep.

  
  


Upon waking up the next morning, they readied themselves and headed out of the cave to continue their journey, when they found themselves face to face with a curious face.

The face itself was big enough to be a mountain, and the body attached to that face was so incomprehensibly big, clouds had to part as they traveled past it.

“Oh, good morn, small fellows,” a bone-grindingly deep and loud voice said.

Thor supported the two mortal children as they all but fainted at the mere sight of the giant.

Loki managed to conceal his surprise, but even he wasn’t entirely at ease with the giant’s presence.

He knew this wasn’t the biggest giant out there. He knew that his namesake, Utgard-Loki was even bigger than this one; yet this knowledge did nothing to quell his deep-held unease.

Thor cleared his throat, “Good morn to you too,” he bellowed.

The giant cupped a hand over his ear and nodded.

“Well met, Thunderer. My name is Skrymir. Might I take back my glove?”

Thor blinked.

Loki stepped forward, “But of course, good Lord,” he said, putting on the voice of a well-trained Aesir-taken wench. He hastily pulled Thor and the children further away from the cave.

The cave, which turned out to have been Skrymir’s glove.

The giant let out a rumbling laugh and picked up the cave like it weighed nothing.

“I was quite surprised when I saw the little fire burning at the seam of my glove, and saw you sleeping in there. I found you to mean no harm though and decided to let you be. I hope your night was good?” Skrymir wondered, his voice ringing in one’s ears like an earthquake inside one’s head.

Loki put his hands over each child’s ears, whispering spells of protection, before doing the same for Thor and himself.

This way they could talk to Skrymir without fearing a tooth-shattering headache and bleeding ears afterwards.

Thor wanted to thank Loki, but Loki shut him up with a glance. He gestured towards Skrymir and put on a docile smile, while Thor turned to respond to Skrymir’s question.

“We slept very well, thank you for your hospitality…” he said with an awkward laugh towards the end.

Skrymir laughed and waved his hand - the gust of wind this gesture caused almost felled a nearby tree.

“Ah, no need to thank me. May I ask where you and your company are headed, great Thunderer?”

The hair in Loki’s nape stood up at the undertone in Skrymir’s question. Of course, as most Jötnar, Srkymir wasn’t exactly thrilled to see one of his kind in the hand of an Aesir God.

Thor sensed something in the giant’s voice too, but couldn’t quite place it. He gestured casually, “We are on our way to Utgard,” he said and looked to Loki, ready to explain Loki’s role in this undertaking, but Loki bowed, hastily speaking up, “I merely guide the way, good Lord.”

Thor played along uncomfortably.

Skrymir made a face, then nodded.

“The path to Utgard is long for the likes of you,” he said and laid his hand on the ground. “Might I offer you a shortcut?”

The tips of Skrymir’s fingers were too tall for a person to climb on their own, even Thor couldn’t do it on his own.

So at first, out of embarrassment, he wanted to refuse, but Loki took that decision from him.

Thor remembered that they were on this journey in the first place, because Loki had asked for it.

So he nodded and gestured for the others to come.

“I will lift you up one after the other, then you help pull me up, got it?” he said and turned to Loki first.

Loki gave a nod.

Thor went down on one knee and Loki stood on his upright knee. Next Thor guided Loki’s other foot up to his shoulder and stood up. Loki pulled himself up onto Skrymir’s finger and sat down to help the next one up.

Next came Thiálfi, whom Loki pulled up with relative ease as Thor lifted him up. After him came Röskva, who bravely hid her anxiety as she was lifted so very high off the ground. Lastly all the bags and rucksacks were left. Thor tossed them up into Loki’s and Thiálfi’s arms.

Then it was only Thor on the ground.

Loki and Röskva held onto Thiálfi, and Thiálfi reached down with all his might to pull up Thor.

With everyone settled in the palm of Skrymir’s hand, the giant stood up and started walking.

In a few steps the tundra at the edge of Jötunnheimr was replaced with the icy cold of the realm’s more typical climate.

Loki changed into his original skin and summoned coats for the two children. Thor put on the coat he had brought, and very deliberately averted his eyes from Loki, whose pale skin now shimmered with a blue tint.

It was such an exotic sight for the Asgardian, who had only ever seen this skin color when he rode into glorious battles against the very people whose land he was now visiting…

Skrymir didn’t speak much as he walked, so Thor turned to Loki now, whispering, “What’s with your behavior all of a sudden?”

Loki glanced at Skrymir, but the giant paid no attention to the people in the palm of his hand.

“I meant to tell you sooner,” he explained, “why I needed you to come with me, why I couldn’t go alone.”

Thor nodded.

“Did you notice how almost every Jötun has at least one pair of chains hanging from their thighs?” Loki asked.

Thor rubbed his beard, then nodded. “Yeah, what about them?”

Loki exhaled slowly.

“But I don’t.”

Thor looked at Loki’s legs, mentally slapping himself for forgetting that the other wore more traditionally Midgardian or even Asgardian clothes that wouldn’t show his thighs.

“So you don’t,” Thor said, tilting his head.

Loki looked at Thor, as though he expected something to click, some realization to come, but nothing happened.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Do you know what these chains represent?” he asked.

Thor shook his head.

Loki groaned into his hands.

“These chains represent the tribe you belong to and the worth of your virginity. The more chains, the more it’s worth,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest now.

Thor blinked.

“So then…” he muttered, but stopped himself.

Loki ignored him. “My chains were taken from me by force. Which means that my virginity is worthless now. I am free game for any Jötunn who might fancy me. Unless, Thor, there is an owner. A master.”

Loki looked straight into Thor’s eyes.

“Right now, I need you to play your part as Thor, the mighty Thunderer, who brought his hard-won Jötunn-wench to Utgard as a tour guide,” he hissed.

Thor looked stricken.

His eyes were wide with shock, his mouth slack. Slowly he averted his eyes from Loki’s red ones, and he covered his face with one hand.

“I understand,” he breathed dully.

“Good,” Loki praised and turned to check on the children, making sure they were warm and comfortable.

  
  


Skrymir had carried them about halfway to Utgard, before he spoke again.

“My small fellows,” he said and looked down at the four people in his hand. “If it doesn’t bother you, I shall take a break and feast, before continuing on my way. Feel free to join me, I am sure my meal is more than enough to sate you too.”

Thor was quick to agree, “Oh, certainly. We have to thank you for your great service and hospitality, Lord Skrymir,” he yelled.

The group carefully climbed off of Skrymir’s hand. Skrymir pulled out a gigantic bag from his belt and set it down in front of them. “Here are my meals. Pick whichever ones you like. I shall nap for a bit,” he added and with a terrible shudder of the ground, he laid down.

Thor glanced at Loki, who let out a deep breath and nodded.

“Let’s get something to eat then,” he said. Thor grunted approvingly and climbed up to the top of the bag. He tried to open it… but it was tied shut with cords as thick as Thor’s own body.

Trying to pull open the knot was like trying to pull Jörmungandr from the sea by the tail. It was pretty much impossible.

After about an hour Thor’s hands were sore and raw from pulling, and he gave up.

Loki tried to soothe, “Let’s just wait then… He’ll open it for us when he wakes up,” he said and pulled the last bites of food from his pockets. He had kept some for himself, but decided to give them to Thiálfi and Röskva.

Those two got pulled into one hell of an adventure without preparation.

Skrymir stirred after a while… but instead of waking up, as Thor and Loki had hoped, he turned over and started snoring.

Even Loki’s protective spell couldn’t block out the skull-churning noise.

Thor grunted.

“So much for ‘napping for a bit’...” he growled and went to wake Skrymir up.

Loki stayed behind with the two children.

“WAKE UP!” Thor bellowed into Skrymir’s ear.

He was almost shaken off by Skrymir’s next snore.

Thor tried again to wake Skrymir up… even using Mjöllnir… to no avail.

  
  


The giant woke up another two hours later and by then neither Thor or Loki, nor the mortal children really cared to eat anything anymore.

They all just wanted to make it to Utgard as soon as possible.

Sadly, Skrymir wasn’t actually going to Utgard. He said his goodbye’s to the four of them and walked off in a different direction.

Steeling himself Loki led the way to Utgard castle.

Thor followed, patiently pulling Röskva and Thiálfi along. His head was swirling with frustration and anger at the giant who ended up annoying them for an entire afternoon, wasting their time and energy… but the thing that actually really ground his gears, was the thing Loki had told him.

The chains.

The meaning of those chains.

  
  


An entire chest of chains sat in Thor’s room, and knowing what he did now… he felt sick with guilt.


	11. Atlas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh, new chapter! And this time it didn't take half a century for me to write it! Joy!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. XD

Utgard was bigger than anything Thor had ever seen. He had mistaken it for a part of the landscape, a mountain, a mountain range even… but no. It was the castle-town itself. Formed from ice, over decades, centuries even, entire lifetimes of builders, generations upon generations… 

It grew from the bottom up. The castle itself was the foundation upon which the entire town grew into heights and widths that were hard to comprehend even for giants.

Loki had been here a few times, as a child. Well, Loptr had been here a few times.

Loki hadn’t.

It made a big difference.

As Loptr Fárbautason, he had been welcomed formally whenever he came here. Fárbauti never shied away from showing off his firstborn son, not minding his small stature at all. He carried him upon his arm like a hunter a hawk, showing him the magnificent halls and rooms of Utgard-castle.

The giants around Utgard-Loki - his guards and servants - never hesitated to praise the young runtling. He’d be swift and deadly, just like his mother Nál, bringing honor and glory to Fárbauti.

Today Loki walked up to the castle-town, with his head lowered demurely, as the denizens of Utgard beheld him with contempt and ire in their eyes.

A slave, bringing their master to the glorious castle of Utgard, what a shame, what a disgrace, even.

Thor steeled himself, putting on a calm, righteous expression as he took in the sight of Utgard and its people.

Upon reaching the castle gate itself, unsurprisingly they found it shut.

Why would the great Utgard-Loki invite them in after all? They were but small, insignificant peasants in his eyes.

Thor felt righteous anger flaring up within him. How dare these Jötnar deny him? How dare they deny  _ Loki _ , who came all the way here, disgraced and in need of protection from someone he didn’t even seem to like…?

The thought stung a bit.

Reaching for Mjölnir, he wanted to shatter that gate, but Loki held him back.

“Thor, what are you thinking?! Are you insane?!” he hissed under his breath and shoved Thor’s hand away from the hammer hanging from his belt.

“Norns, where is your head…” he breathed, then put on a demure and pleasant expression.

“Master, why don’t we take the easy way in?” he said then, and led Thor and the children away from the gate.

He had found this way inside long ago, when he was half the size he was now, but it didn’t matter.

He knew the gate needed room to swing open at the hinges, and he knew that no giant even thought of this gap when thinking about ways the castle could be entered without permission.

After all, a long time ago, when the Aesir had tried to take over Utgard, none of them had thought of it either.

Now Loki gave away the secret.

  
  


He walked straight into the gap between the door and the hinge, and he didn’t even need to squeeze or twist his body to fit through it.

Even Thor could walk straight through it at his full height.

Realizing that entering Utgard wasn’t the difficult part, but rather  _ staying _ and  _ getting out alive _ were, Thor grabbed Loki’s wrist and pulled him back.

“Wait,” he hissed.

Loki staggered, “What?” he hissed back.

Thor urged Loki into a corner, afraid to be seen.

“What now? Do you think you can just walk in there, like you own the place? Do you think  _ I _ can just walk in here like  _ I _ own the place?!”

Loki shook his head.

“Of course not, you fool!” Loki whispered, “I thought the great Thunderer had some brains and not just brawn… can’t you figure it out yourself?”

Thor raised his hand to threaten, but seeing as Loki didn’t even flinch at the gesture, he lowered his hand again.

“As you might be aware, I am not from here. I don’t know customs or manners that are expected of me!” he grunted, then exhaled to calm himself.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Of course you don’t. Nobody expects you to behave like a well-bred Jotunn official,” he pointed out.

Thor growled under his breath.

“Well then what do you expect of me?”

Loki sighed.

“Just walk in there, introduce yourself and ask to stay for a while. You have heard many a great thing from your latest trophy, and wished to see them for yourself,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Thor grunted. That sounded fine, but even so, did Loki have to say it like he was talking to a mentally challenged brute?

While Thor knew he was no scholarly gentleman, he liked to think he was at least somewhat chivalrous and honorable… a battle hardened hero, but not a brute.

Loki gave Thor another look, saying that he better understood his job now, then started walking, but Thor held him back again.

“Stop doing that!”

Loki startled for the first time.

“Stop doing what? Unhand me!”

Thor let him go. “Acting like this. I’m your ally here, am I not? Stop treating me like your enemy,” he muttered.

Loki was shaking, staring up at Thor.

“ _ Are _ you my ally?” he asked coldly, trying to conceal the anxious tremor in his voice.

Thor nodded. “I think I am. I mean… I know I overlooked you in the past, but at least… now that Sif sees your worth and skill, I can see it too.”

He tried to smile.

“I helped chase that black stallion of yours,” he added after a moment of silence.

Loki shook his head and pulled away.

“It takes more than that to become my ally. Even… even my mate… …” he stopped himself and exhaled forcefully.

“Whatever. Let’s go at last.”

Thiálfi and Röskva hadn’t said a word since. They both feared the gods who had taken them.

They were at their mercy, and apparently… they were now being dragged into a dangerous place, crawling with giants…

How could they dare to speak up at all…?

Loki saw them, hesitantly following behind him and Thor, and felt bad. He paused and waited for the two of them to catch up, then put a hand on either one’s back to guide them forward.

“Don’t fear, you two. Jötnar tend to see your kind as butterflies at best. Pretty to look at, but not to play or mess with, as they are far too breakable for either to be enjoyable at all,” he told them.

“If you want to speak, you can speak,” he added and smiled.

In truth, Jötnar wouldn’t hesitate to swat at the little mortals like they were pesky flies or mosquitos either, but he didn’t tell them that.

He wanted to see what these two were capable of.

  
  


Navigating the halls of Utgard-castle wasn’t that difficult, it only took a long time, as everything was gigantic. The sheer size of the doorways and corridors implied the size of the giants passing through here.

Loki knew that Skrymir himself wouldn’t have been able to reach the top of the door-frame if he’d tried.

Thor thought best not to think of it at all, and the children could only follow along, their minds shutting down from the sheer overload of input.

It didn’t matter to Loki. As long as they all followed him, everything was okay. What mattered more to him, was keeping himself in check.

He wanted nothing more than to run off and find his brothers, but… alas, if he was found roaming on his own, he’d be in so much danger, he might as well stab himself before even taking a step away from Thor.

Thor, of all people… he suppressed a sigh. Thor, who meant well, but just so happened to be a bit of an oaf… acting before thinking, speaking before listening, thinking before learning…

  
  


It didn’t matter now. They were here already.

At long last they had reached Utgard-castle’s great hall. Utgard-Loki, as expected, sat at the end of the hall upon a throne that made Hlidskjálf look like a nutshell by comparison.

Loki slowed his step and fell behind Thor, who now had to play his role as his owner.

Thor straightened his back and took a breath to steady himself.

It was hard not to be completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of the hall itself, and all but impossible not to be terrified by the size of Utgard-Loki himself.

How was a being of his size even able to breathe, let alone move?!

Thor chased these questions from his mind and cleared his throat.

“I am Thor Odinson! God of Thunder!” he bellowed, hoping Utgard-Loki even heard his voice.

To his horror, Utgard-Loki did indeed hear his voice.

“I know who you are, Thunderer,” he said in a surprisingly soft, yet deep voice.

Thor wanted to run away, but he didn’t.

He put on a smile.

“Well met, Lord Loki of Utgard,” he replied, trying not to feel weird as he said Loki’s name in this manner.

Why exactly did Loki have to pick  _ this _ name for his fake identity…? He glanced behind himself, where Loki gave him a mirthful smile.

The bastard liked being called Lord of Utgard, even if it wasn’t referring to him.

Clearing his throat again, Thor addressed Utgard-Loki again.

“I have heard naught but glorious things of your great realm, and couldn’t help but want to see this place for myself!” he explained, gesturing towards Loki. “You see, it was quite the shock to be told my great home of Asgard is unremarkable, compared to Utgard, by this one here. But I can certainly say he didn’t lie.”

Utgard-Loki turned to look at Loki, who lowered his head shamefully.

“Well, in that case I sure am glad that this former comrade of mine, has kept such fond and true memories of his home,” he said not unkindly; but not so much so, that Thor couldn’t hear the unspoken accusation in his words.

Thor took a breath to steady himself.

Behind him Thiálfi and Röskva looked ready to faint, clinging to Loki’s sides; truthfully it was probably only his firm grasp on them that kept them on their feet at all.

“Indeed, indeed,” Thor said, crossing his arms to conceal how his hands were trembling. “I have scarcely seen enough of Utgard so far, and would love to stay here longer, if your lordship would permit it.”

Utgard-Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” he said, leaning back on his throne, “I’d love to welcome the great Thor and his company in my home, but tonight there will be a great celebration, and I worry that the four of you might get harmed in the chaos.”

Loki suppressed a cough.

This was a lie. There was no celebration at this time of year, but Utgard-Loki knew well enough, that Thor had no idea whatsoever.

He was testing Thor’s Jötunn slave.

Thor turned to look at Loki, eyebrows raised.

Loki put on an expression of shock, and grabbed onto Thor’s sleeve.

“Master, forgive me! I must have mistaken the date of our arrival…!” he said for Utgard-Loki to hear, then knelt on the ground, making a show of himself.

Thor bent down to pull Loki to his feet, when Loki whispered, “He’s lying. There is no celebration, but he can easily get one going at a moment’s notice. Play along!”

Thor hissed and pretended to shake Loki a bit.

“I thought you were supposed to be smarter than the average plaything!” he grunted and turned his attention back to Utgard-Loki.

“Forgive me, I was  _ unaware _ . Might there be a way to test our merits, to see if we could withstand the festivities?”

Loki blanched.

He had hoped Thor would simply ask for a room away from the commotion, but no… instead he went for the competitive approach, because of course he did. He was a muscle-head with more brawn than brain.

How could Loki forget this…?

Utgard-Loki raised an eyebrow now.

“You’d like to compete, would you, Thunderer?” he asked.

Thor said  _ yes _ without thinking.

Loki bit back a groan.

Utgard-Loki laughed, then said, “Very well. As you are my guests, I’ll let you decide which disciplines you’d like to compete in. Beware though, that you might be harmed in the process, if your merits don’t hold up.”

Loki bowed his head, to feign anxiety, while reaching into a pocket at his belt to pull out a pouch.

“Master, we should think about this first,” he said, just loud enough for Utgard-Loki to hear it too.

Thor, Thiálfi and Röskva formed a circle with Loki.

He whispered, “You won’t withstand these tests, without some help. Let me take the first one, and I’ll help you,” he explained.

Thor nodded, starting to realize how stupid he’d been to suggest a competition of all things.

The adrenaline must have gotten to his head and made his judgement cloudy.

Well, it was too late now.

Loki covertly pulled out three chunks of a dark, reddish-brown substance.

“Each one of you, swallow this. It’ll save us, trust me.”

Röskva and Thiálfi were too dazed to really think about it, and they both obediently swallowed the little chunks.

Thor however was hesitant.

“What is that…?” he asked, picking the last chunk up from Loki’s hand.

“My blood,” he said and hid the pouch away again.

Thor had been about to put it in his mouth, then sputtered.

“Your  _ blood…?! _ ” he gasped and looked at the two siblings. They looked a bit uncomfortable, but fine otherwise.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes, my blood, now swallow the damn thing!” he hissed.

Thor was reluctant, but obeyed at last.

Loki was glad he didn’t tell them what it truly was. While saying it was his blood wasn’t exactly a lie, it wasn’t  _ just _ his blood.

He smiled, “It’ll only have an effect on you until your body digested it,” he assured and stepped forward now, shyly facing Utgard-Loki.

“My master saw fit, for me to compete first,” he said to his namesake.

Utgard-Loki looked doubtful, but gestured for Loki to continue.

“None eat faster than me,” he announced then, smiling with shy confidence.

Utgard-Loki’s doubtful expression deepened. “Is that so?” he said and rubbed his chin in thought.

“In that case, you shall compete against my good man Logi.”

  
  


A table was brought, and the table filled with freshly cooked meat. It was more than even most Aesir were able to eat in one sitting, let alone a runt like Loki.

Loki and Logi stood at the opposite ends of the table, and when Utgard-Loki snapped his fingers, both started eating.

They ate at a speed few had ever seen before, and with enthusiasm that even the most starved beasts rarely showed.

Thor and the children watched in awe at first, then in mild horror, and lastly… their expressions changed yet again, to something like satisfaction.

Thor nodded in grudging respect, as he felt his stomach feeling less and less empty, his hunger sated more and more.

After going hungry thanks to Skrymir’s stupid bag of food which couldn’t be opened, Thor hadn’t thought Loki would find a way to feed him and the two children any time soon, but there he was… feeding them at alarming speed.

  
  


In the end Loki still lost, as Logi had devoured the meat, the bones, the plates and even the table itself, but that didn’t matter.

Loki patted his full stomach and stood with Thor and the children again, satisfied with himself.

Thor gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Well played, witch,” he said quietly.

Röskva and Thiálfi seemed to finally wake from their daze, and Thiálfi especially started to bounce on his heels.

“May I compete as well?” he asked in a sudden bout of bravery.

Loki smiled, and Thor nodded.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged and gently pushed Thiálfi forward.

Utgard-Loki looked at the teen.

Thiálfi introduced himself and said, “I have never lost in a foot-race!”

“Very well, young one,” Utgard-Loki said and summoned another man of his. “This is Hugi,” he said, introducing the newcomer.

“The two of you shall race the length of the hall and back. The first one to touch the wall wins.”

Thiàlfi and Hugi shook hands, then stood at the wall, waiting for the signal.

Utgard-Loki snapped his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, Hugi had already reached the other side of the hall, while Thiálfi was only about halfway. Hugi won.

They raced again, and this time Thiálfi caught up a bit more, but still remained about fifty steps behind him. Hugi won again.

They raced a third time, and even though Thiálfi was now only twenty steps behind Hugi, Hugi won again.

Utgard-Loki nodded approvingly, “For one like you, this is a great feat already. Do not be discouraged, young one,” he said to Thiálfi, who went to stand next to his sister again.

Loki patted the boy’s back and looked to Thor. “I told you he would be good,” he said and smiled.

Thor nodded. “You did say so,” he agreed and put a hand on Thiálfi’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

It was his turn to compete now, he decided and stepped forward.

“I’d like to compete in a drinking contest!” he announced.

Utgard-Loki chuckled.

“Very well,” he said and reached to the side of his belt. “As a show of my respect for you and your companions, I shall have you drink from my own drinking horn. Most of my fellows are able to finish it in one, at most two gulps,” he explained, leaning down to set the drinking horn on the ground in front of Thor.

It was so long and tall, it could be carved into a ship to rival Skidbladnir.

Still, Thor showed no concern and jumped up on a stool to reach the top of the horn.

He took a sip.

…

It hardly made a difference.

Clearing his throat and loosening his belt a bit, Thor took another sip.

… again, it barely made any difference at all.

He took a deep breath and let it all out, then tried one more time.

…

and it still made no difference.

  
  


Utgard-Loki applauded anyway and put the drinking horn back on his belt. “Well, I guess that was a fluke,” he said jovially and smiled. “Would you like to compete again?” he offered.

Thor nodded.

Utgard-Loki’s smile widened, and he clicked his tongue a few times.

  
  


A soft meow followed, and moments later a small, gray cat sauntered into the room.

“Try lifting up this cat of mine.”

Thor stared dumbly for a few seconds.

“Lift… your cat?” he said and looked down at the feline. It was hardly more than a kitten, if he was honest.

How hard could it possibly be, right?

So he crouched down and put his hand under the cat’s belly and… lifted… it up?

Well… he tried.

The cat seemed to twist and stretch on and on, and even as Thor lifted the cat’s belly above his head with two hands, the cat remained firmly settled upon the floor, with only one paw lifted off the ground.

Loki held back a giggle.

Thor lowered the cat again and looked at his hands in complete and utter disbelief.

Loki crouched down and clicked his tongue softly.

The cat looked at him with its big golden eyes… and meowed happily, trotting over to Loki’s side, winding around his legs and all but climbing into his arms when he pet it.

Utgard-Loki watched this interaction with wide eyes.

His heart sank.

Quickly he tried to distract the group, but Loki had caught his eye, even as he scritched the purring cat in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I do wonder who that cat could possibly be~  
> If you know the myth this chapter is based on, you already know. XD
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> PS: Two more chapters are ready already ; )


	12. Loki's Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so... apologies ahead of time for the name confusion.
> 
> Just a reminder that Loki and Utgard-Loki are NOT the same, while Loki and Loptr ARE the same.

Utgard-Loki had suspected something was off about the group when he first saw them. After all, the Thunderer had never been known to drag his Jötunn-slaves around when he went somewhere, let alone to Jötunnheimr of all places.

Utgard-Loki wasn’t even sure if the god actually  _ had _ any Jötunn-slaves.

Not to mention this supposed slave looked to be too well-dressed, and didn’t behave quite right.

  
  


So now that the cat he had summoned especially to test Thor happily snuggled into this Jötunn-slave’s arms… he realized that he should have trusted his suspicions sooner.

This Jötunn-slave was not who he pretended to be.

And if his suspicion was correct… he was in trouble if he messed up now.

  
  


Thor grunted in frustration, completely missing the way Loki cuddled with that cat he failed to lift off the ground.

“I demand one more competition!” he demanded. “Give me somebody to wrestle!”

Loki blinked in mild horror. Did this man really not know when to quit?!

Utgard-Loki looked similarly distressed. How could he challenge Thor again, if this was already how things were going?

Steeling himself he summoned Elli.

Elli was an old lady.

“Here, wrestle her,” Utgard-Loki said.

  
  


Thor looked completely dumbstruck at the feeble old lady staggering into the hall. He felt wrong wrestling her… after all, she looked at least twice his father’s age!

Utgard-Loki put on a smile.

“Go ahead. Don’t underestimate my good nurse Elli,” he encouraged.

He hoped this match would scare the Thunderer away.

Thor did try to wrestle Elli, and unsurprisingly - for Utgard-Loki - it didn’t go well for the god.

Having to admit defeat for the third time this day, Thor’s mood was pretty awful.

Loki worried that things would go sour, but he had no way to really reign Thor in at this point.

So he instead turned to look at Utgard-Loki, meeting his eyes deliberately.

Utgard-Loki swallowed once.

He knew these eyes.

They were Nál’s eyes, they were  _ Fárbauti’s _ eyes.

This was Loptr, the long-lost would-be matriarch of Helblindi and Byleistr.

  
  


“You have all competed very well. I am afraid I can’t invite you to the celebration tonight, but I shall have a room prepared for you,” Utgard-Loki decided, hoping to appease his guests. Keeping up the excuse of the celebration allowed him to keep the hallways free for Loptr to roam freely.

_ Loptr _ smiled.

“Very well,” he said, dropping his act at last. He gave the cat another caress and a kiss on the head, then let him go. He knew it was only an illusion that’d brought him here. Utgard-Loki would send Jörmungandr back to the midgardian sea the moment they turned their backs.

  
  


The four of them were led to an upper level of Utgard-castle and settled in a room there. The four of them would fit on the bed, spread out at full length and width and still wouldn’t touch unless they migrated five times their length.

Thor settled with Thiálfi and Röskva, inviting Loki to join them for a good night’s rest, but he declined.

He was in Utgard at long last. He had to see his brothers.

He bade Thor and the children a good night, then ran down the halls of Utgard-castle. He closed his eyes as he ran, reaching out with his Jötunn blood-magic.

It would lead him to his family.

It would bring him home.

  
  


He was out of breath by the time he reached the main library, but he couldn’t stop. He ached with the need to return to his family.

He could identify the person whose blood was calling to him without needing to see him.

“Helblindi! HELBLINDI!” he called, running along the bookshelves that were each too tall for him to even reach the lowest books.

  
  


Helblindi’s heart froze.

He knew this voice by heart, even if he’d never thought he’d hear it again.

“Loptr?!” he called back, not caring about etiquette in the library. Nothing could stop him now.

He crouched down, holding out his hand uncertainly. He could only hope Loptr would find him on his own. Blind as he was he could only wait.

“Blindi…!” Loki sobbed, seeing his brother at last. He ran towards him, practically throwing himself into the waiting hand.

Helblindi gasped, staring at his open hand, wishing so desperately he could actually  _ see _ his brother. He carefully cradled Loptr in his hands, bringing him up to his face.

Loki sobbed, wiping his tears even as they kept streaming down his face.

He reached out until he could touch Helblindi’s face, leaning in close to kiss his closed eyes.

“It’s me, Blindi… it’s me. I’m here, I’m safe. I’m so glad…!”

Helblindi nuzzled Loptr, laughing in disbelief.

“Loptr… you are here! You are really here!” he cheered and stood up. “I’ll bring you to Byleistr, hold on,” he said and started walking, abandoning the book he’d been reading before.

Byleistr was a bit further away, but Loki still felt his blood calling out to him. His skin tingled with delight.

With Helblindi’s longer stride it didn’t take long to reach Byleistr’s room. The middle brother knocked on the door and called out, “Byleistr! Loptr is here!”

Loki held his breath as the door was slammed open.

“Loptr!?” Byleistr gasped, and didn’t even immediately see Loki sitting in the palm of Helblindi’s hand.

When he did, he picked him up and brought him up to his face just like Helblindi had done.   
“Loptr! Oh Norns, oh Ymir! You are here!”

Loki laughed wetly, “I am here, yes. At long last, I am here…” he whispered, hugging Byleistr’s face.

Byleistr pulled Helblindi into his room, closing the door and sat on the bed with Loki in his hands.

“How are you here? Did anyone hurt you, did anything happen?!” he asked frantically, his crimson eyes scanning Loki’s body for injuries.

Loki shook his head.

“Nothing happened, nobody hurt me,” he assured. He wiped his tears. “I just… after losing father… I couldn’t  _ bear _ staying away any longer. I…”

Helblindi gasped, interrupting him.

“You… You knew father passed away…” he whispered.

Loki reached out to caress Helblindi’s cheek - Byleistr lifted him higher so he could reach it.

“I am a witch. Of course I knew, of course I… I came…” Loki sobbed. He put his hand over Helblindi’s lips and shushed Byleistr before they both could lecture him.

“Only in his dream. I came to him as he drifted off. I… I bid my goodbyes and…” he choked on his words, hiding his face in his hands.

At long last it all broke free.

All the years he’d spent away from his family, trying to fill the hole in his heart, yet failing every time.

Frigg would never replace Laufey, nor would Odin ever come close to replacing Fárbauti. Thor and Baldr could never hope to replace Helblindi and Byleistr.

He had felt lost and uprooted, the one place in all of Yggdrasil he called home was out of his reach, and no matter where he went, he was only ever a guest.

Even surrounded by his children… he felt homeless.

  
  


His brothers understood. Of course they did.

They set him down on the bed and laid by his side, using their hands to cradle and cover him.

“We heard a lot about you,” Byleistr eventually said, rubbing Loki’s back with two fingertips.

Helblindi carefully rested his hand so Loki could hold onto his fingers. “Yes, we did. For some time we didn’t know where you were or how you disguised yourself, but when we heard of Loki Laufeyjarson joining the Asgardian court, we knew immediately. Father made us swear never to speak a word of your survival, so we didn’t,” Helblindi said, picking up where Byleistr had stopped.

“We never forgot about you, Loptr,” Byleistr promised, “We soaked up every piece of news we could find about you. About your life… where you stayed, if you were safe… who you were with…”

Loki smiled. He was nothing but glad that even though he had lost touch with his home, his home had tried hard not to lose touch with him.

“My children…” Loki started, and Byleistr let out a trembling laugh, “Yes! Your children… we are uncles!” he cheered.

“I heard you have a wolf and a serpent,” Helblindi said softly. “I wish I could see them.”

Tears ran down his cheeks.

Loki nodded, then whispered, “Yes, Blindi.” He nuzzled the palm of his hand, “I wish you could.”

Byleistr rubbed Loki’s back again. “I wish we could have been there for you. Were you in good hands at least?” he asked.

Loki blinked, then nodded. “Yeah.”

He swallowed hard, then sat up. He put his hands on Helblindi and Byleistr’s shoulders.

“I need my rings.”

  
  


Both his brothers turned to look at him - even Helblindi, who couldn’t actually see. Helblindi put his hand on Loki’s back, opening his mouth to speak, without saying a word.

Byleistr covered his mouth for a good while, then at last, he spoke.

“You… you mean it?” he asked.

Loki nodded.

“I… I thought I could just… live with them like that, you know. Partners, maybe. Parents… together…” he said, wiping the tears that welled in his eyes again, “but they… they called me their mate, their  _ matriarch _ . And… I got a taste of that feeling. And now… I refuse to go back.”

Helblindi gasped.

“Angrboda of Ironwood… accepted you as their mate  _ and _ matriarch?” he whispered in awe.

Loki laughed, “Yes. They stood up to Odin for our children and me,” he said, as though he couldn’t believe it himself.

  
  


Byleistr nodded and got up. He pulled a box from a secret compartment of his desk and drew a magic rune - something Laufey had taught him - to unlock it.

He set the box down in front of Loki.

  
  


Inside were the same rings, with all eight chains still attached that once graced Loki’s thighs.

The emerald shards, ruby drops and golden coins attached to the chains still shone with ageless brilliance.

Not a trace of blood could be found on the rings. It was like that horrible thing had never happened.

  
  


Loki wasn’t prepared for the wave of emotion washing over him at the mere sight of his rings and chains.

He could feel the old scars screaming out at the memory, and involuntarily tensed up, drawing up his knees to protect himself.

Byleistr reached out immediately, supporting Loki, shushing him.

He was ready to put the box back out of sight, but Loki stopped him.

“I’m fine,” he assured, “Give them to me,” he said.

Helblindi sat quietly.

He vividly remembered his blurry, dim, barely-there vision filled with nothing but red. He remembered holding Loptr in his arms as he bathed him, washing away the blood, he remembered the hoarse screams, as he applied the healing ointment to the jagged, torn up flesh.

For days afterwards he could feel Loptr’s blood sticking to his hands, and no matter how many times he washed them… the feeling never left.

  
  


Byleistr pushed the box towards Loki again, and Loki reached inside, taking out the jewelry that was once his.

There was no way he could wear his rings again as intended, but it didn’t matter anymore. He laid the chains across his thighs, mimicking the way they used to sit back when he still wore them.

It was all wrong of course. He was wearing asgardian style clothes, which included a pair of trousers.

Still, his heart tightened with nostalgia for a beat or two.

He sighed then stored the chains in a private pocket dimension, far from anyone’s reach, and relaxed at last.

  
  


Byleistr watched him with a careful expression. He kept his free hand on Loptr’s back, feeling his emotions through the tension in his body.

Loki was at ease, it was like a bone-deep ache inside him finally faded.

“Thank you,” he said at long last and Helblindi winced.

“Don’t thank us,” he said, pleading, “Don’t say it like you’re about to leave us already!”

He reached out and grabbed Loptr’s hand with his own. It was like holding a blade of grass.

Loki squeezed Helblindi’s fingers, “I’m sorry. I have to go back…” he whispered. “I’ve been away for far too long,” he admitted.

Byleistr was tempted to hold onto Loptr, to try and keep him there, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Loptr was a free spirit, he needed so much room to breathe, to flourish, to blossom… and who was he to take that from him.

Byleistr had watched his brother with nothing but awe, when he was young. He looked forward to Loptr being a matriarch, he looked forward to being a soldier for him. He had imagined a future where the three of them would be together forever.

Of course those were the thoughts of a child, of course he knew better now.

But deep down, there still was a twinge of nostalgia, a desire to bring back those days of innocence.

Helblindi bit his trembling lip and shook his head.

“Don’t go… I… I … can’t even… I want to  _ see _ you!”

Loki took Helblindi’s fingers and brought them up to his face. “Look at me,” he said. Helblindi swallowed hard and nodded. He touched Loki’s face, mapping the features of his face.   
“You really took after mother more than father…” he said softly, his voice thick with tears.

Loki laughed wetly.

“Yeah. I guess I did.” He smiled, new tears welling in his eyes, “Father mistook me for her when I came to him…”

Byleistr nodded. “I can see how he would,” he said and ran a hand through Loki’s hair. He bit his lip, “Do you really have to go already?” he asked.

Loki felt his heart clench with guilt.

“I do,” he whispered. “I owe Boda an apology,” he admitted.

  
  


Helblindi’s unseeing eyes widened. Byleistr’s eyebrows rose.

“You never bow your head, Loptr,” Helblindi whispered.

Loki laughed, “I don’t,” he said and rose to his feet. 

“Bring me back to my companions. I’ll find a way to come to you again, somehow,” he promised.


	13. Unbridled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, dear me. I just got done writing chapter 16, and I'm in pain. XD

Loki arrived at the edge of Ironwood. He dismounted Svadilfari and took off his bridle, letting the horse roam freely for the first time since Sif gave it to him. Svadilfari stood next to Loki, reluctant to leave. He huffed at him, lightly nipping the fabric of his sleeve.

“Go. Run freely,” Loki said and pushed Svadilfari’s muzzle away. “Go, or I force you down again!”

The stallion shook his mane and stepped away. He looked hurt, but trotted away obediently.

Loki looked at the bridle in his hand. He felt uneasy.

Not because of Svadilfari. The stallion had been nothing but sweet and obedient for him, so his deeply held fear of the huge beast had slowly ebbed away.

And yet… He weighed the bridle in his hand, unable to help but feel like… he was about to do the same thing to Angrboda as he had done to Svadilfari.

If he handed over his rings, he would force them to make a decision - accept his rings and surrender their own, making him their matriarch, or refuse and cast him out for good.

He had hoped to simply… offer his rings; hoped that would spare him the burden of having to explain himself… but the more he thought about it, the more wrong it felt.

In the end he wondered why he’d even bothered to get his rings back at all.

He was going to return home… empty handed.

  
  


He walked past the knobbly and gnarly trees of Ironwood, dry leaves rustling beneath his feet. He wanted to hurry, but at the same time he was scared to arrive too soon.

He was certain Angrboda knew he was coming home already.

Still, he wanted to bide his time, wanted to prepare himself. He had been in such a rush to return before, but now… 

What could he possibly say now?

  
  


A howl echoed throughout the forest.

  
  


Loki shuddered. The sound of his son’s voice shook his bones, making his hair stand up and his teeth ache.

He hated hearing his son like this… howling in pain.

  
  


His once hesitant steps grew determined. He started running.

Another howl. It melted into a growl, a whimper, a whine.

Loki ran faster.

  
  


He ran so fast, he was almost surprised when he passed by the bog and approached the clearing upon which stood Angrboda’s home.

He staggered now.

He’d be able to see it soon. And soon… Angrboda would be able to see him too.

  
  


His steps slowed again.

Slowly, slowly… he left the last trees behind… and looked upon the clearing.

  
  


There it was, Angrboda’s house, as he remembered it… except… his absence was noticeable. There was no Seidr flowing from the loom at the window, there was no book on the chair next to Fenrir’s bed… and Fenrir himself was nowhere to be seen.

  
  


And in the open door stood Angrboda.

  
  


They met Loki’s eyes as though they knew precisely when and where he’d appear at last. He froze mid-stride, suddenly scared.

Angrboda started walking towards him.

He staggered forward, finally crossing the distance between them and found himself in Angrboda’s arms.

“Loki…!” they breathed into his hair, trembling hands roaming his back, lifting him off the ground.

“B-Boda…!” Loki choked, wrapping his arms around them at last. “Boda, I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…!”

Angrboda shut him up with a kiss, tangling their fingers in his hair.

“I don’t care!” they breathed into the kiss, “I do not care!”

Loki pulled away, cupping Angrboda’s face in his hands, “But I-”

They cut him off.

“No, Loki. I want to strangle you with my bare hands, burn you in Fenrir’s bog and at the same time… I want to hold and kiss you until I die!”

Despite himself Loki could only laugh and hold Angrboda tighter. He kissed their lips a few times and then, slowly, lost his courage again.

He withdrew.

“I’m sorry, Boda…” he said again, not daring to meet their eyes.

“Loki, look at me,” Angrboda commanded softly. Loki couldn’t disobey. He met Angrboda’s eyes, steeling himself for whatever they would say next.

“I don’t care where you went, who you went with, what you did or why, Loki.”

Loki shook his head, already feeling terrible for everything he did. “No,” he said and twisted out of Angrboda’s grasp.

“Let’s go inside? We need to talk,” he said and started walking.

He half feared Angrboda would stop him, denying him, but they walked patiently behind him, closing the door behind themself.

Loki looked around the familiar room, somehow feeling like a stranger.

Angrboda put their hand on his shoulder and led him to the cot, getting him to sit down. They knelt in front of him, resting their head in his lap, looking up at him with a bitter expression.

“I’m sorry…” Loki said again before Angrboda could shut him up. “I mean it. You can’t just… ignore what I did like this…” he insisted. If Angrboda ever, ever, ever accepted him again as their mate and matriarch, he needed them to truly stand behind their decision without a sliver of doubt. Or else, he feared, they would eventually turn on him in hatred.

So he guiltily stroked Angrboda’s hair, tangling his fingers in their dreads.

“I’m not,” they said after a while. “I just… thought about a lot of things,” they murmured, stroking the side of Loki’s thigh.

He watched them mutely, waiting for them to speak.

“I interrogated the runes again, hoping I could somehow find a way out. You know… It’s not like I’m eager to die, without getting to raise my child,” they said.

Loki pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“I really tried,” Angrboda said. “But whenever I read the runes… no matter what I do, my untimely death is certain.”

Loki finally couldn’t stand it anymore, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Angrboda covered his mouth with two fingers.

“I know you are loath to bow to the whims of the Norns,” they said before he could argue, “but this once, you need to understand that this is an act of kindness!”

Loki turned his face to the side, pushing Angrboda’s hand away.

“How is cursing you to die a  _ kindness…?! _ ” he hissed, getting upset. Angrboda sat up, catching Loki’s hands in their own.

“I have a choice!”

He startled.

“I have a choice,” Angrboda repeated.

Loki suddenly lost all strength to argue. He stared at Angrboda, pain flickering in the depths of his eyes already.

“Listen to me,” Angrboda said softly, releasing his hands to cradle his face instead, “I can die a meaningless death and be lost among the withering branches of Yggdrasil, or I can die bringing a child into this world for you to love.”

Loki pursed his lips, lowering his head as tears started welling up in his eyes.

“For me to love…” he repeated contemptuously.

Angrboda lifted his chin and looked him in the eyes.

“Could you ever  _ not _ love a child you birth?”

Loki brushed Angrboda’s hands off and rubbed his eyes, averting his gaze from Angrboda’s, unable to bear the tenderness in their expression.

“You know what I could…” he muttered under his breath, “you know well what I…”

Angrboda shushed him.

“You are thinking of the first weeks with Jörm, aren’t you? The time you spent doubting if you could love a child you couldn’t nurture the way you had anticipated?”

Loki didn’t say anything.

“And Sleipnir? Whom you gave away for fear that you’d ruin him with your hatred for his sire?”

Loki turned to glance at Angrboda from the corner of his eye.

Angrboda smiled.

“I know you,” they said, “I’ve spent enough time teaching you to know how this head of yours works. And I’ve spent enough time loving you to know how your heart works.”

Loki averted his eyes again, holding his breath.

His shoulders trembled slightly.

At last, he broke.

“No,” he whispered.

Angrboda caught his chin and kissed him lightly, “Loki, please…”

“No!” he insisted, wrapping his arms around Angrboda, hiding his face in their hair, “No. I’m sorry, I can’t. You have so much yet to teach me, you have… you have so much to do still…”

Angrboda hid their face in Loki’s chest, knowing his choice was made. He was only pleading helplessly at this point.

They ached for him, but there was nothing they could do anymore.

They could only give him what little time they had left. So they held him close, kissed and comforted him.

  
  


In time they led him outside again. He called Fenrir’s name and within seconds the wolf came running, eagerly nosing at his mother, licking and yapping.

Loki couldn’t help but laugh, reminding Fenrir that he could actually speak.

Angrboda softly admitted that a mere two days after Loki had left Fenrir had stopped speaking. Howling instead.

Loki’s heart broke anew, and he held Fenrir in his arms until the wolf fell asleep. He didn’t ask, but he feared he hadn’t really slept at all while he was gone.

  
  


He had a home, he realized.

A place where reconciliation and forgiveness were offered freely; where love came without cost or condition.

In his mind he apologized to his brothers. 

He shouldn’t have gone to get his rings; he should have spared them the pain of having to let him go after seeing him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	14. Hel on Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: dubious consent
> 
> ... I am so sorry.

There was a fragile peace now, between Angrboda and Loki. 

They stayed near him, lingered whenever he moved, afraid he might disappear again, yet never interfered.

They sought his touch whenever they could, wordlessly apologizing for their own fate.

He let them.

He spent many hours at the Seidr loom, catching up on prayers and wishes that piled up in his absence; and like a shadow by his side Angrboda often watched him mutely.

Every hour they spent away from him, they spent hunched over one book or tome, copying passages, writing notes… 

Loki knew they were racing to write down all their knowledge for him to use when the time came… but he refused to ever look at a word they wrote. He vainly hoped that the time might never come, if he simply refused to learn the things they had yet to teach him.

He spent time spoiling Fenrir, teaching him to speak again. He read books to him again, stories where children always found their home, and parents never fought.

He sang songs, remembering the voices of his own parents as they sang to him when he was a child.

For centuries these songs had withered in his memories, words lost, melodies unraveled… but after returning to the realm of his birth, a spark revived them.

  
  


Angrboda watched them often, listening secretly.

They knew these songs by heart, having heard them from their own parents. Sometimes they forgot that Loki was from the same realm as themself.

Seeing as he had come to them from Asgard, wearing the skin of an Aesir, it was hard to remember sometimes that deep down he was Jötunn.

Well, he was half and half.

  
  


They remembered just how foreign this very realm was to them and him. No ice, no monsters, no giants… only fragile mortals who feared them at best, and loathed them at worst.

Just because he could blend in with the masses didn’t mean he fit in with them.

  
  


Many evenings Angrboda spent with Loki, watching the seas. The wise waters cared not, if they watched the waves lapping at grey beaches, or the creatures dwelling beneath the surface.

They watched Jörmundandr.

  
  


What little solace it gave them, to know he was safe and well, that he was growing and thriving… when they couldn’t be with him in person.

  
  


Angrboda hid their tears from Loki at night, when they held him in their arms, clinging to him as though he could slip away again… forever this time.

He never struggled or refused, lacing his fingers with theirs, hiding his face in the pillows that smelled like herbs and ice.

Mornings they spent laying side by side, watching the sun illuminating each other’s faces.

Fenrir came to greet them, and Loki went to weave Seidr, while Angrboda watched him, quietly talking to the wolf.

  
  


Mortals started to show up at the witch’s house again. Since Fenrir no longer roamed far and wide, too afraid to return to find his parents gone, they deemed the woods safe again.

Fenrir kept watch over the clearing, his imposing figure almost melting into the background with the trees.

Many humans didn’t notice him until Loki or Angrboda mentioned him.

  
  


However few mortals came by soon disappeared again. None dared to stay at the witch’s house.

  
  


Loki’s prayers weighed heavily upon the veil, fluttering in the wind. It was like the fine threads or Seidr tangled around the house instead of being swept along the branches of Yggdrasil.

He kept weaving anyway.

  
  


Away from his sight Angrboda interrogated the runes every day. They feared nothing more than to miss their fleeting chance, to find their fate sealed before they could do anything about it.

They did it sometimes when he was down in the cellar, mixing potions and the like. He went down there whenever he came across a herb or root that was good for one portion or another.

  
  


So he stood at the table, pestle and mortar in hand, crushing mugwort into a smooth paste.

On the table was one of Angrboda’s books. It was so big Loki couldn’t actually carry it himself. Angrboda pretty much just left it on the table at all times, using it as a makeshift table top, piling books on top of it whenever they needed any.

He leaned over the book to read, when he heard Angrboda’s footsteps behind him. He set down the mortar and turned to look at them, when instead he found himself bent over the table.

Behind him he felt Angrboda trembling.

“Boda…?!” he gasped, but they only apologized.

He tried to turn, but they held him down, pushing up his tunic to expose his pale back, tugging down his trousers and ground their hips into him.

He froze.

Part of him knew this had been fated to happen, part of him knew not to resist… 

And yet… he squirmed and twisted, trying to stop things from happening… while truly… not trying at all.

How easy would it be to shift his shape foil Angrboda’s intentions? How easy would it be to scream for Fenrir to tear down the house and bury them both beneath it…

How easy would it be to keep refusing… 

  
  


He did not.

He bit back his voice as they pushed inside. It had been so long since they last had him…

A rush of joy and despair washed over him in equal parts.

Angrboda held onto his hips and thrust again. They kept going on and on, an unspoken anxiety guiding them.

  
  


When it was over, and they stepped back in a daze, Loki sank to his knees upon the ground.

He supported himself against the leg of the table and looked up at Angrboda.

  
  


They knelt before him.

“Boda… What did you see…?”

They blinked.

A tear fell from their crimson eyes.

“I saw  _ nothing _ .”

  
  


Ice gripped Loki’s heart.

He pushed himself up into Angrboda’s arms; held them close.

“No… no… oh, Boda… no…” he whispered between kisses, holding their face in his hands as he let himself be laid on his back this time.

What did it matter that this was the cellar floor? What did it matter that the mugwort paste was drying out… what did it matter… 

He held Angrboda in his hands as they mounted him again.

  
  


Again and again they took him, pleading with fate itself to let them have this chance.

  
  


“I’m not stopping,” they said between breaths, “I’m not stopping until it takes, Loki…!”

He nodded limply, his hands never moving. He held Angrboda in his hands as they spilled within him again.

Every time he sent a spark of Seidr into the depths of his own body, hoping to feel something change.

Every time he shook his head and apologized.

  
  


At long last, in the darkening hours of night, he gasped.

  
  


“Boda… Boda, it’s here… it…  _ at last _ …” he whispered hoarsely.

  
  


They stopped.

“Truly…?” they whispered in disbelief.

They had lost hope already… 

  
  


“Truly, truly!” Loki assured, sending another spark of Seidr into his own womb to illuminate it.

And there, ever so tiny, ever so faint… was a grain of light that wasn’t Loki’s own.

  
  


Angrboda held their breath, afraid it could be scattered if they disturbed it. It stayed.

  
  


At last the terrible shards in their heart melted, their sorrow-torn soul mended itself… they relaxed and slumped, burying their face in the crook of Loki’s neck.

  
  
  


Loki came to in Angrboda’s arms. He startled at the feeling of water surrounding him, only to be shushed by the Jötunn holding him.

“You’re okay, Loki. You’re safe,” they assured, understanding that they tore open a wound last night that won’t heal for decades, maybe centuries to come.

“ **Mother,** ” Fenrir grumbled. He sat nearby, his snout resting just within reach of the bathtub. Loki found an empty apology ready on his lips, but somehow he failed to find his voice.

“ **Mother smells different,** ” Fenrir pointed out.

“You will have another sibling, Fenrir,” Angrboda said. 

“ **Mother won’t leave again?** ” Fenrir asked, shifting slightly closer to the tub. His anxiously flopping tail brushed the trees at the edge of the clearing.

“I will not,” Loki whispered, knowing the wolf’s sensitive ears could hear him.

Satisfied with that response Fenrir let out a deep rumble, wagging his tail now.

Angrboda kissed the top of Loki’s head.

“How are you feeling?” they asked softly.

He averted his eyes, gazing into the water which was milky with herbs and potions.

“Loki…”

“I’m fine,” he assured at last and sat up - or attempted to, at least - when he found himself pulled back into Angrboda’s arms.

“Let me,” they pleaded. “I let you disobey and fool around with Fenrir, I let you go to  _ Asgard _ with Jörmungandr… this time, just this time, please… allow me to spoil you.”

  
  


Loki wanted to argue, he wanted to refuse and be difficult as always, he wanted to run from this truth for as long as he could, but somehow… even in the depths of his heart, he couldn’t find the will to say no.

“Then do so,” he said numbly, finally turning to face Angrboda. He looked at them with pain plainly written across his face.

How could he not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry. Please don't kill me.


	15. And so the Losses count (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I hope you had good holidays and a good start into the new year!
> 
> Now, please enjoy, and don't kill me after reading ^^

As he did usually, Loki refused to let his condition change the way he showed himself. He kept his male appearance. He moved with the same confidence, the same determination as ever, refusing to bow to even the needs of his own body.

Not his own… 

He was reminded at all times of his condition by the shawl firmly tied around his middle. Angrboda had tied it for him in the morning - as they did every morning - insisting that it stay in place all day.

They’d have him wear it at night too, if he’d let them. 

The way they tied the shawl made it hard for him to really move his body. It was like a corset, almost.

_ For support _ , Angrboda said, patting his stomach.  _ To make it easier for you _ , they added when he glanced up at them.

He felt restricted and uncomfortable, but he didn’t have the heart to say no anymore.

  
  


Loki spent his days with Fenrir, making up for the lost time, while Angrboda watched. They were so clingy - it was almost strange for someone like Angrboda to even ask for company at all; but then… wasn’t it only natural for them to seek the closeness of their family while they still could?

Wasn’t the spectre of death ever looming above their head like a storm cloud; lighting waiting to strike?

Loki consoled himself as best he could. Angrboda was safe for now. It wouldn’t be until he went into labor that he’d truly have to face the inevitable, so for now… for now he tried not to think about it.

He ignored Angrboda’s fleeting glances, the longing in their eyes as they watched him with Fenrir.

They brought their books and notes outside - preferring to sit with Loki and Fenrir as they wrote - instead of working alone in the dark and cold cellar.

Maybe, Loki thought sometimes, the cellar itself is a place of discomfort and pain for them now… 

For him too, it was hard to go down there.

To look at the table - the still-open book atop it - and to remember the way he had been bent over it and taken…

He pushed himself though. He went down there and prepared ointments as though nothing had happened. He refused to be subdued by his own fearful mind.

And yet, a part of him tensed whenever he went down there, whenever he stood with a dish of crushed herbs, whenever he leaned over this or that book to read another recipe; fearing that steps might come down to find him again…

He said none of it.

He was sweet as honey, indulging Angrboda whenever they sought his comforting presence.

  
  


Had you told him a few years ago that he would ever be seen as a comfort to  _ anyone _ , especially one destined to die through him, he would have laughed in your face.

Now he quietly reveled in the private joy of being trusted and loved.

How petty he once was… how foolish… how blind not to see the way Angrboda looked at him, the way they touched and held him.

To think he believed, he needed a ritual to prove  _ anything  _ to him… 

What a fool he had been, truly.

And yet Angrboda must be an even bigger fool than him, because they still, somehow, relentlessly loved him.

  
  


The first months went by in a blur, yet painfully slow. Loki felt hyper aware of every passing moment, felt like every memory dug itself forcefully into his mind, never to fade, yet somehow… each day still blurred into the next, like a broken record, on and on, repeating the same tender touches, the same longing glances, the same loving whispers.

Loki didn’t realize just how much time had gone by until the routine was broken.

It wasn’t a bad break. It was just… a little startling to wake up and realize that so much precious time had gone by already.

Angrboda had suggested going to visit Jörmungandr, who was near the shore again - well, his head was. By now the serpent was so big, there was no way his head and tail could be in the same place.

Angrboda prepared Fenrir, ignoring Loki’s protests that he could walk on his own just fine. Fenrir laid down for Loki, grumbling expectantly.

He liked carrying his mother around. He liked being useful. He liked being close to his warmth… And he liked being praised and rewarded by Angrboda.

Loki couldn’t refuse Fenrir’s literal puppy eyes and sat upon the saddle Angrboda had fashioned for him. Well, it was basically just a pillow and a rug, secured with some rope around Fenrir’s chest, but it was nicer than sitting right on the wolf’s hard spine.

Angrboda smiled and gave Fenrir a treat - causing the overexcited wolf to erupt into a flurry of happy barks and yaps and calls of “ **Mean-faced Boda! Treats! More!** ”

Loki pinched his ear.

“You could call them  _ Boda _ at least, Fenrir. For  _ now _ at least,” he chided.

Fenrir turned his head to look back at Loki.

“ **But Mean-faced Boda is Mean-faced Boda!** ” Fenrir argued. Loki felt himself growing desperate all of a sudden.

“Yes they are, but…”

He lost his agitation as fast as it had come over him.

Angrboda’s hand had landed upon his knee, squeezing gently.

“It’s fine… At least it means he respects me,” they assured and moved their hand from Loki’s knee to Fenrir’s head, scratching behind his ear. “Right?”

Fenrir grumbled happily, too distracted to respond.

Angrboda took that as a yes.

  
  


The three of them arrived at the shore around midday. The sun was high in the sky, but not overbearing. It was pleasantly warm.

The ocean breeze was cool and refreshing, carrying a welcome scent of tang and salt.

Loki felt like he was in a dream.

Something just… felt off.

He felt happy and at ease, watching the golden sunlight burning in the flyaway hairs of Angrboda’s dreads, casting a warm sheen upon their cold skin; feeling his son’s steady gait, his ever present pleased rumbling, his unceasing warmth; knowing he would soon see his other child again… 

  
  


He called Angrboda’s name without even meaning to. He looked surprised when they turned to look at him.

They smiled and tilted their head at him.

“What is it?” they asked softly.

“Nothing,” Loki said easily and held out his hand.

They laughed and laced their fingers with his.

  
  


Jörmungandr showed up the moment his name was called, as though he had been waiting.

He slithered onto the beach so his head poked out of the water. He looked like a strangely shaped rock with his horns and spines.

The softness of his childish features was still there - Loki could definitely see it. He slipped off of Fenrir’s back and took off his boots, wading into the water to hug his son’s huge head.

How was this one  _ younger _ than Fenrir and yet so  _ big?! _

Loki thought it probably had to do with the fact that he was in the ocean, where his growth wasn’t restricted by the environment.

“ _ Mother… _ ” the serpent grumbled. His eye was the size of Loki’s entire head, his knife-like pupil the length of his hand.

Loki saw himself reflected in his son’s eye as he leaned in to kiss the serpent’s brow.

“Hello my love,” he said and caressed the smooth, slick scales of his cheek. Jörmungandr closed his eyes, holding still for his mother.

He was so big, he couldn’t really do much else to interact with his family.

Angrboda came closer.

Jörmungandr’s eyes opened again and turned towards them. He flicked his tongue at them, before hissing softly.

“ _ Mother… Boda… _ ” His gaze lingered at their head, where he knew a scar was left from the time Odin struck them with Gungnir.

Angrboda smiled knowingly.

“All good, Jörm. All good,” they told him, “I will never bow to Odin and his little stick.”

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle, “I gave it to him, Boda. I had it made,” he pointed out.

Angrboda looked at him.

“I’d bow to it if it were in your hands.”

  
  


To sit down together, and to approach the topic… is difficult to say the least.

They start out as easy as possible, but it falls apart.

Another sibling, yes. But Boda will leave this realm.

Boda won’t be around afterwards.

Boda won’t come back.

  
  


Boda will be gone.

Boda will die.

  
  


Fenrir doesn’t understand.

“ **Mean-faced Boda will go,** ” he agreed, “ **And then go home. Bring treats!** ”

“I’m not going out to hunt, Fenrir,” Angrboda tried to explain. “I won’t go on my own,” they add, glancing helplessly at Loki.

“You and I will carry Boda to the bog. We will burn their body, so they may pass on… go to Helheim…”

Fenrir flicked his ear at Loki.

Jörmungandr blinked.

“ _ Mother Boda… _ ” he hissed softly. 

Angrboda smiled. “You’ll have another sibling. Right now it’s still small, so you can’t see it yet,” they said, realizing that their children and mate need to see things in a different light to let things into their hearts.

To start with the promise of their own death, as necessary as it is for them to understand, won’t get them anywhere.

“It’ll be a bit like when Jörm was born, remember?” they said, ruffling Fenrir’s head. Fenrir grumbled.

He turned to look at Loki, who stood next to Jörmungandr, absentmindedly stroking the serpent’s nose.

To him Jörmungandr’s birth was something complicated to remember.

When he accompanied Loki to Svartalfheim and Asgard, knowing that she - at the time - was vulnerable in a way that made Angrboda uncomfortable, he had felt so immensely protective of her… and yet, at the same time, so very, very helpless.

The thing he sought to protect his mother from wasn’t something he could snarl and bite at. It wasn’t something he could do anything about.

All he could do in the end, was run as fast as he could as he felt his mother’s fingers digging into his fur to brace against the pain.

  
  


Loki saw the look in Fenrir’s eyes and smiled.

“I will be fine, my love,” he assured immediately. “I will be okay,” he said and waved his hand at the wolf, beckoning him to come over.

Fenrir came close, sitting down next to Loki and Jörmungandr, who flicked his tongue at his brother and hissed softly.

“Giving birth to you both wasn’t easy,” Loki said, hugging both his sons as best as he could, “But I wouldn’t trade these memories for anything in the world.”

  
  


Angrboda soaked up Loki’s words.

In bed, at the twilight of that day, they pulled Loki into their arms. “You really wouldn’t?” they whispered into his ear.

Loki turned onto his back, looking at Angrboda.

“I wouldn’t what?”

“Give up the memories of having Fenrir and Jörmungandr.”

Loki closed his eyes and sighed.

“Of course I wouldn’t. Where would my love go if I gave them up?” he asked, looking up at Angrboda again.

“And what about Sleipnir?”

  
  


For a long while Loki remained silent.

  
  


“Sleipnir too.”

  
  


A few nights later Loki woke up. At first he didn’t know what woke him, but as he laid there, watching the faint moonlight illuminating Angrboda’s arm loosely holding onto him, he realized.

There was a fluttering movement within him.

  
  


A rush of emotion washed over Loki. Suddenly he couldn’t stay put. He gently pushed Angrboda’s arm off and got up. He stood at the side of the bed for a second, unsure what to even do with himself.

At a loss, Loki went over to pick up the shawl. As much as he disliked wearing it usually, in this moment he couldn’t help but feel… protective.

Maybe now he understood why Angrboda had asked about Sleipnir’s birth that other night.

  
  


If he could love Sleipnir, despite all the pain tainting his birth, maybe he could grow to love this child too.

He sat at the loom and started weaving.

  
  


Angrboda woke up with a start, realizing Loki wasn’t by their side. They sat up hurriedly… then froze.

Loki sat at the loom in his night shift, the deep red shawl wrapped around his middle.

  
  


A sigh escaped them and a weight fell off their chest.

“Good morning,” they said softly, drawing his attention away from the shimmering threads of Seidr.

Loki turned to look at them. “Good morning,” he said softly.

  
  


In a way it felt like they were seeing each other for the first time. Something had shifted between them.

  
  


They got up and walked over to stand behind him, kissing the top of his head, their arms lightly wrapping around his shoulders without stilling his hands.

Then, after a moment, they stepped away with a smile and left him.

  
  


He watched them go, unsure what to do or say. In the end though, he stayed where he was, weaving some more, until his fingers were sore and his Seidr depleted.

He got dressed and went downstairs to look for Angrboda. He found them at the dinner table, hunched over something in their hands.

“Boda?” he asked softly.

Their eyes found him immediately. “Loki,” they said and turned slightly. “Loki… come here.”

An inkling of defiance arose within his chest, but he ignored it. A question laid on his tongue, but he didn’t ask it.

He walked towards them until he was within their reach. They pulled him close so he stood between their knees and kissed his stomach, before guiding him to kneel.

He shuddered.

At last he saw what they held in their hands, at last he saw… their thighs were bare.

  
  


Angrboda handed over their rings.

  
  


They had four chains in total, two on either thigh. Two rings. In the intricate pattern that was passed down through generations upon generations they placed them around Loki’s neck, chains interweaving, rings interlocking.

When they were done, they rested their hands on Loki’s shoulders and looked at him; in their eyes was nothing but love.

“Loki,” they said at last, “I love you.”

  
  


Loki didn’t realize he was trembling until Angrboda pulled him closer, rubbing his back to steady him.

He held onto them for a long time, at a loss for words. He wanted to say it back to them, thank them, praise them… but nothing came.

When he pulled away to look at them, his eyes were wet.

  
  


Angrboda laughed softly and kissed his cheeks.

“Isn’t it too soon for mood swings?” they asked with a smile and kissed his lips.

Loki huffed and bit their lip.

“Don’t try to act like this doesn’t matter, Boda,” he chided and held their face in his hands.

  
  


Of course this mattered.

It mattered so much!

Even the mere fact that Angrboda had removed their rings themself instead of letting him do it, as tradition would dictate, mattered.

Even now they refused to submit, refused to be vulnerable in that one way mates were meant to be.

Loki knew he should be at least disappointed, but he knew his mate. This mattered.

  
  


Angrboda knew it too, of course. Instead of arguing they merely lowered their head in a single nod and accepted the kiss when Loki leaned in to make up for the bite.

When he pulled back and rose to his feet he curled his fingers, summoning his own rings to his hand.

  
  


“Allow me?” he said softly.

Angrboda stared at him, their eyes wide with disbelief.

  
  


“That’s where I went,” Loki said nervously when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, “when I left. Well… I went to strangle Thor at first, but then… I went home. I wanted to give them to you much sooner, but I didn’t… because I needed it to be  _ your _ choice.”

Angrboda took a sharp breath and bit their trembling lip. Tears welled in their eyes, and after taking a shaky breath, they huffed a laugh and looked up at him.

“Thank you so much,” they whispered and pulled him into their lap, kissing him desperately.

  
  


It wasn’t until a few days later, that Loki told Angrboda about the quickening of their child. He lay by Fenrir’s side, a book in his lap when Angrboda came out to check on them.

“It’s well, Boda,” he had said when they asked how they were doing. “Come feel,” he encouraged.

They came immediately, kneeling by Loki’s side and placed a gentle hand upon his stomach.

Fenrir watched, his ears perking up.

“I don’t feel anything,” Angrboda lamented, so Loki took their hand and guided their fingers to slip underneath the shawl, pressing into the spot on his stomach where he felt it the most.

The change was immediate as Angrboda’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Oh, there!” they gasped, laughing as they kept feeling the faint flutters and nudges from within Loki’s belly.

He watched Angrboda fondly, briefly glancing at Fenrir, who grumbled contently. For a moment he forgot about the future and relaxed.

“Soon,” Angrboda said reverently, “I’ll be able to feel more. We’ll know what it’s gonna be…”

And then it all came back.

Loki hid his tears for Fenrir’s sake and nodded with a brittle smile.

“Yeah…”

  
  


Angrboda looked up at him. Instead of speaking they leaned in to kiss his lips, apologizing wordlessly.

  
  


Five months passed when Angrboda confirmed that the child was not a monster. The timing matched and when they examined Loki’s belly the shape of the child was correct too.

“That leaves four, maybe five more months…” Loki whispered listlessly.

He laid flat on his back on the cot, where Angrboda examined him. They smoothed a hand over the swell of his belly and sighed.

Of course it weighed heavily on them too, to know that their time was running out.

They rarely gave in to those thoughts and feelings, focusing instead on all the beautiful things they would witness until the end.

They focused on preserving their vast knowledge for Loki to make use of, hoping to make up for their absence in some way.

Of course… there was no way a book, a note, a tool or even their rings upon his neck could make up for their absence.

But they tried anyway.

They had to.

  
  


By now the cellar was filled to the brim with newly written books, each one stuffed with additional notes and lists of other books that contained more information.

Recipes upon recipes, lists of spells, instructions and even simple pieces of advice littered among anecdotes and fables were strewn across the table.

Loki still didn’t dare to go down there.

  
  


He spent many hours at the loom, praying for time. Nothing more, just time.

  
  


He knew there was no point in bargaining with the Norns, begging them to let him keep his mate.

So he merely asked for as much time as possible.

He doubted the Norns would give him it.

  
  


Angrboda built a crib - Fenrir helped happily, by grumbling nearby and wagging his tail whenever they looked at him.

“ **Mean-faced Boda…** ” Fenrir growled and nosed at the base of the crib. Angrboda made sure it was stable before starting on the actual basket for the newborn.

Deeming it stable enough they started chopping off another piece of wood with an axe.

“Yes, Fenrir?” they asked mid-swing.

“ **Where will you go after sibling comes?** ” Fenrir wondered.

Angrboda almost dropped the axe.

At a loss for words they looked at Fenrir, not sure how to explain.

“To Helheim,” they said finally, aware that this hardly answered Fenrir’s question.

“ **Why?** ”

Angrboda sighed.

“Because I will have given up all of my heart, and won’t be able to live anymore,” they replied, setting down the axe. They walked over to Fenrir and rubbed his head, huffing when he flicked his ear at them.

“ **But why…?** ” Fenrir asked again.

“Because I love you,” they sighed, “You, Jörm… and your sibling too.”

Fenrir looked at Angrboda.

“Don’t ask why I love you lot, I might not have an answer!” they warned, chuckling at the way Fenrir tilted back his ears.

“When you were born, you were hurting a lot. You know your mother has had dark moments in his life. His heart is broken. So when he bore you, you could only inherit a broken heart from him,” they explained carefully. “I am so lucky to have a strong, unbroken heart. So when you were born I gave you part of my heart to make yours whole.”

Fenrir whimpered. “ **But if heart hurt… mean-faced Boda hurt now?** ” he asked.

Angrboda smiled and shook their head.

“Not at all. I gave my heart freely and I will do so again. It only hurts if it’s done through injury and force.”

“ **Mother’s heart broke… through injury… and force…** ” Fenrir growled quietly.

Angrboda looked at their son for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah.”

They swallowed hard and pursed their lips, mulling over their next words.

“That… that is why you have to protect him when I’m gone. I know you are too young yet to understand… but I know you will do the right thing. You will stay with your mother until the end,” they whispered, knowing the wolf could hear them.

Fenrir rose and walked towards Angrboda, then flopped down, curling around them and the half-made crib.

“ **Promise. Will protect until mean-faced Boda come home.** ”

  
  


They visited Jörmungandr again.

By now Loki was visibly pregnant and had taken a female form. When Angrboda asked about it she said it made the strain on her body a bit easier to handle.

They didn’t say it, but they had a feeling Loki did it for their sake too.

Jörmungandr noticed the change immediately and flicked his tongue at Loki before she even dismounted Fenrir.

“Hello my love,” she said with a chuckle, walking up to her second son. She hugged the side of his face, unable to reach further and kissed his eyebrow.

“ _ New sibling? _ ” Jörmungandr inquired immediately.

Loki laughed and smoothed a hand over her belly. “Yes. You can actually see it now. You can feel it too,” she added and pressed her body against Jörmungandr’s cheek, letting him feel the faint kicks and nudges from within.

“ _ New sibling… _ ” Jörmungandr repeated, awed this time.

“ **Brother wasn’t like new sibling,** ” Fenrir commented. He had spent plenty of time curled up against Loki, feeling the faint movements of her belly.

“ **Brother hardly moved,** ” he added wisely and walked over to Jörmungandr’s side as well.

“Your brother was born with a shell,” Loki pointed out and scritched between Fenrir’s ears. “He did move around a lot, but you couldn’t feel it through the shell,” he added and smiled at Jörmungandr.

Angrboda chuckled and leaned in close to Jörmungandr, “Fenrir moved around  _ so _ much! This one is  _ tame _ by comparison,” they told him.

Fenrir perked up at the mention of his own name.

He couldn’t remember of course, what it was like to be in Loki’s belly, but he was sure it was good. Mother was always good!

Loki shook her head fondly and leaned into Angrboda’s side.

“Jörm, my love,” she started, “In a few months I will send Fenrir to you. Alone.”

Fenrir looked at Loki, just as surprised as Jörmungandr.

“On that day your sibling will be born,” she continued after a moment, “and Angrboda will… die.”

The two brothers looked at each other, then at Angrboda.

Angrboda kept their arm firmly wrapped around Loki’s waist, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You will… you will know it when the time comes,” Loki continued, her voice brittle.

Angrboda spoke up, “You will feel it here,” they said and put a hand to their heart. “When you do, you will know your sibling is safe, and I am gone.”

“ **To Helheim,** ” Fenrir said, remembering Angrboda’s words from the other day.

“To Helheim,” Angrboda agreed.

Jörmungandr flicked his tongue at the word.  _ Helheim _ .

He resented the word, because it wasn’t  _ home _ .

“Fenrir,” Angrboda said, cupping the wolf’s cheek, “When you feel it, I need you to come back home to help your mother,” they said.

By their side Loki sagged, hiding her face in her hands.

Angrboda kept her steady.

“Until then,” Angrboda insisted, drawing their son’s attention back to themself, “you two will hold off the moon or the sun, whichever tries to watch. I will have no one watching my death aside from my family.”

  
  


By now Loki struggled to sleep at night. Her body felt heavy; her breasts sore, her back stiff. She’s been having cramps lately and the child was restless. So she sat on the edge of the bed many nights, caressing the sides of the crib. Soon, far too soon there would be a child in this crib.

In the stillness of the night it was far too easy to imagine that Angrboda wasn’t merely asleep… but dead.

The thought hit Loki like a slap across the face, and before she even caught her breath she was in tears, shaking Angrboda awake.

Angrboda never complained, dutifully pulling Loki into their arms to comfort her.

“I’m here, Loki. I’m right here,” they whisper into her ear.

I’m  _ still _ here.  _ I won’t be for long… _ Loki hears, the words distorting in her mind.

She cried and clung to her mate desperately, afraid they might disappear too soon.

  
  


Beneath the window Fenrir whimpered quietly. He heard it every time when Loki woke up at night, sobbing into her hands or whispering to her unborn child to soothe it.

Every time he listened for her voice.

_ Run, Fenrir. Run to your brother…  _ But the words didn’t come.

  
  


A letter from Jötunnheimr arrived.

Loki stroked the messenger bird’s feathers as she unfolded the parchment, eyes roaming the beautifully written lines.

“ _ Loptr, brother dearest, beloved matriarch, _

_ We are pleased beyond words to hear that you bear the rings of your mate now. We are thrilled to hear of your pregnancy as well. If there is anything you may need us for, send word, we will stop at nothing to aid you. _

_ Ever since you left, Utgard has been awash with rumors and myths about you and the Thunderer. Try as we might, we couldn’t quell them all. _

_ At the very least our adoption of the name  _ Lokessibba _ cleared up some misconceptions. We contemplated using your original name, but as you are only known by your current name these days, we decided against it. _

_ To us you will always be our Loptr, but we understand that you are Loki to the rest of the world. _

_ We await your replies and news with naught but joy! _

_ We love you, Loptr. _

_ Byleistr, Helblindi _ ”

  
  


A smile graced Loki’s face as she set the letter down. She went to get a clean piece of parchment, a feather and ink when she startled mid-step.

A pulling ache, a clenching, a tearing pain shot up her spine and down her legs, buckling her knees.

She caught herself on the edge of the table, gasping at the pain that came as suddenly as it faded.

  
Her time had come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and sorry for ending in such a place. I couldn't stop myself ^^
> 
> Please be safe out there.  
> Look after yourself and your loved ones. And be kind to the people around you.


	16. And so the Losses count (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: traumatic childbirth, character death
> 
> And finally... we are here.
> 
> Have a look at TtottS's newly made [cover](https://ko-fi.com/i/IQ5Q63DQET), and enjoy the pain.

Angrboda found Loki moments later, rushing to her side immediately. They didn’t need to ask what’d happened. They could tell by the look on her face.

“Not yet… not yet, Boda…” she whimpered. The pain had receded, but in its place now was sheer desperation.

Angrboda pulled Loki into their arms, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry, Loki. I’m so sorry,” they whispered and gently pulled her to her feet.

“There is still some time. Try to rest and relax until then…”

Loki cut them off, “I don’t  _ care! _ I know how to give birth! I don’t know how to… how to… Boda…  _ Boda, I can’t…! _ ”

Angrboda held her close. They tried to think of something, anything to say to soothe her, but nothing came to mind.

They could help with birth, they could handle even the more difficult complications that could arise during delivery, but this? … their own death?

What could they possibly say to that.

They held Loki close helplessly.

“I’m sorry. I can’t… help you with this. For all the things I know, this is the one thing I don’t know how to help with,” they said, rubbing her back. “I… I don’t even know how to handle it myself. All I can do is focus on you and our child, on securing your future as much as I possibly can…”

Loki sobbed into Angrboda’s chest and held them closer.

“I’ve… I’ve told people their family members would die, that I couldn’t help them anymore, but…”

Loki shook her head and put her fingers over Angrboda’s lips.

“Don’t… Just… stay with me. Don’t leave me, stay. Stay!” she begged. She knew better than to bargain for Angrboda’s life, but her heart didn’t care.

She needed to try at least.

Maybe some merciful Norn would listen.

  
  


Angrboda stayed right where they were, rubbing her back as she sat down to write a letter to send back to Byleistr and Helblindi. For Loki it was the least she could do to distract herself, to bide her time until the next bout of pain would remind her of what was going to happen.

She told her brothers of the last times her and the others visited Jörmungandr, how her heart was already filled with love for her unborn child, and how she hoped they could meet her in due time.

She said nothing about the fact that she’d gone into labor upon reading their letter.

For a few moments she almost forgot what was happening, pushing it from her mind successfully.

Angrboda stood behind her, gently massaging her shoulders and nape, fingers brushing over the chains and interlocked rings gracing Loki’s neck.

They commented here and there on the things she wrote, pointing out things she should add to amuse her brothers.

Loki did so gladly, until everything came crashing down again as another wave of pain washed over her.

She dropped the feather and clutched at the shawl covering her belly, eyes closed to focus on her breathing.

Angrboda mutely rubbed her back as she bent over.

When it passed, Loki didn’t sit up again, instead slumping more, folding her arms over the edge of the table and sobbed.

“I’m sorry, Boda… I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I can’t do this.”

  
  


Angrboda watched her helplessly for a moment, then knelt by her side, gently propping her up so she’d look at them.

“Why are you sorry?” they asked, cradling her cheek.

Loki sniffled wetly.

“Because it is  _ my _ heart. My fault you… you have to… and… and…”

Angrboda found themself chuckling against their will, leaning up to kiss away Loki’s tears.

“Don’t say that. How is it your fault, hm?”

Loki opened her mouth to argue, but fell silent when Angrboda kissed her instead.

  
  


They let her roam freely for a while, letting her fuss with the letter as she tied it to the bird and sent it back to Jötunnheimr, letting her straighten every pillow and blanket tossed over the cot, letting her sort through the notes and other documents strewn about the table so she wouldn’t drive herself crazy.

At all times they lingered by her side, always within reach.

They knew Loki’s labor well by now. While of course things were different every time, they had gotten a feel for her stamina and endurance.

They knew that she was handling things well for now and there was no need to fuss, no matter how much they felt the urge to do so.

They knew their role as midwife well.

Serve the mother above all, respect and heed her needs. All else is secondary.

So they hold off on offering Loki soothing tea or relaxing salves, knowing she’d ask for it if she needed it. Still, they kept an eye on her, ready to intervene if the need arose.

Loki knew Angrboda was watching her every move. She was used to the attention and paid it no mind.

She couldn’t pay it any mind.

She had to push aside those thoughts, so she could keep functioning.

  
  


Even though she knew this made her battle harder.

Despite that, there was a part of her that relished the searing pain, the feeling of desperation and fear that coursed through her, every time her womb contracted. It kept her rooted in the present moment, forbidding all thoughts of a future, where the gentle hands rubbing her back wouldn’t be there anymore.

  
  


She made it through four hours of slow and relatively easy labor before her waters broke.

There was a trickle at first, then a contraction and as her body relaxed it came flowing. It was clear, save for some mucous and blood. Angrboda smiled, assuring her that it was perfectly normal, nothing to worry about.

Loki looked at them.

“I am a midwife too, you know…” she pointed out, leaning heavily on them.

Angrboda kissed her.

“I know,” they assured softly.

  
  


“It’s gonna get worse from now…” Loki sighed and started hobbling towards the door. Angrboda followed of course. They would have offered to go instead, but as Loki was… Loki, and forever refused to take help unless she needed it, they let her go herself.

Outside Fenrir was playing with a few birds - thankfully none of them were the messenger bird Loki had released earlier. He batted at them playfully, never hurting them even as they fluttered and flapped by his muzzle.

He had of course heard his parents’ voices, but knew better than to bother them. Even if he couldn’t understand what was the matter, he knew his parents well enough.

“Fenrir,” Loki called softly. She tried to hide the tremble in her voice.

Fenrir heard it anyway.

“ **Mother,** ” he responded, sitting in front of her and Angrboda, tail wagging. “ **Mother…?** ”

Loki took a breath to steady herself, then looked at Angrboda.

This was their farewell.

  
  


Angrboda smiled.

“Your new sibling is coming soon,” they said. Their voice was steady, despite the faintly shimmering tears in their crimson eyes.

“ **Mean-faced Boda go to different place?** ” Fenrir asked, flicking his ears. “ **To Helheim?** ”

Angrboda nodded.

“Yes. Remember what I asked of you and Jörm?” they asked, reaching out to stroke Fenrir’s massive head.

He grumbled, eyes closing at the touch.

“ **Distract the sun and moon,** ” he rumbled deeply.

“Exactly,” Angrboda praised. “Now it is time to go,” they told him and gave his ear a gentle pinch.

The wolf perked up and rose to his full height.

He saw the tears in Angrboda’s eyes and nuzzled their front with his enormous muzzle, before licking their cheek - well, he tried at least.

“ **Come back soon, mean-faced Boda!** ” Fenrir said and after nuzzling Loki and her belly he turned to rush off to the shore, howling.

  
  


_ At last, _ Angrboda thought,  _ at last it is here… the dread, the despair, the pain, the sheer and utter horror of facing one’s death. _

At last…

They sank to their knees before even realizing it.

“I won’t come back… Fenrir…” they sobbed, curling in on themself, biting the side of their fist to keep from screaming the words at the forest, at Fenrir’s thundering footsteps.

  
  


Loki stood besides them, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to breathe through her last contraction.

She had pretty good pain-control and endurance, which is how she made it through the first few hours of her labor without crying or screaming, but it was getting increasingly difficult to withstand the pain.

Still, this was not her moment, and she endured it for Angrboda’s sake. Who was she to deny them this moment of weakness, of  _ humanity… _

When the contraction passed, she carefully walked closer to Angrboda and knelt by their side, rubbing their back as they wept.

She hated this feeling.

Her hand brushing over the shuddering muscles of Angrboda’s back… She knew how strong they were, what they were capable of, and yet… right now, they couldn’t even sit upright without support.

She kept stroking down the length of their spine, at last settling her hand in Angrboda’s nape, fingers tracing the smooth gold chains around their neck.

Her mate…

  
  


She sat with Angrboda through another contraction, never speaking a word of complaint and waited.

When the contraction passed and she slowly exhaled to relax her aching body again Angrboda finally sat up.

They turned to look at Loki, eyes swollen and bloodshot.

Loki reached up to wipe away their tears and licked them off her fingers.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

  
  


Angrboda laughed wetly.

“Oh Loki,” they huffed and sobbed, “Loki… you… I know you’ve had three contractions while I … while I cried. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” They cupped Loki’s face in their hands and kissed her, “And you ask me if I’m alright… Oh Loki… what a fool you are.”

Loki gave a brittle smile.

“And still… you leave me behind to be a fool on my own,” she accused.

Angrboda kissed her again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I love you.”

  
  


Loki nodded.

“So do I,” she whispered.

  
  


Angrboda took Loki back inside and upstairs to the bedroom. They went to heat up water, preparing the room for everything that would come next.

Loki laid upon the bed obediently. She curled up on her side, watching the swaying treetops outside the window.

Angrboda sat behind her, massaging her lower back for her whenever the contractions came again.

By now Loki was really in pain. Her exhales carried suppressed cries and moans, and her body trembled with exhaustion.

Angrboda was there through all of it. They helped Loki out of her dress and into a light shift to keep her from getting chilled as the evening breeze washed over her damp skin.

Eventually Loki couldn’t stay put anymore, insisting on walking up and down the length of the bedroom, and Angrboda let her. They walked with her, shushing and cooing whenever she bent over to gasp and pant through the mounting pain.

By the time Angrboda lit the candles to illuminate the bedroom Loki was crying.

  
  


She could feel her body opening up, she could feel her child moving deeper into her pelvis.

While there was excitement within her, knowing that soon enough there would be relief and joy, there was also that same bottomless despair that’d been tormenting her for the past months.

When she couldn’t walk anymore and allowed Angrboda to settle her on the bed again, she was inconsolable.

Every contraction felt so much worse, knowing it was another step towards her beloved’s death.

  
  


Angrboda settled in bed next to Loki, embracing her. They knew better than to focus on Loki’s labor now. She needed them as her mate, as her lover and partner in life.

They kissed her temple and held her in their arms, allowing her to hide her face in the crook of her neck, swallowing her screams with their kisses.

They felt it when Loki started to transition into active labor, as she squirmed and writhed more, seemingly trying to fight against her own body’s needs.

She wanted to draw it out, to delay for as long as possible.

Angrboda understood her.

Angrboda knew her.

They loved her.

  
  


They held her against their chest and caressed her body, from her heavy, swollen breasts, over the expanse of her taut belly, down to her thighs. They caressed her intimately, knowing it would ease the pain.

Loki writhed still.

“Let go, Loki,” Angrboda whispered against her lips, “you are safe. I’m with you. Let everything go.”

Loki’s eyes closed as she moaned through another contraction.

Angrboda kept going.

“Listen to your body, Loki. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” they promised.

Loki knew it wasn’t true. She knew Angrboda would leave her soon, but she couldn’t fight it anymore.

The moment she let go the weight within her dropped lower. She gasped.

Angrboda could feel the child’s head pressing down against Loki’s opening, parting and spreading her folds beneath their fingers.

Loki merely breathed. She knew her body would do the work for her, even if she didn’t help it.

It was all she could do now. Just give in; stop fighting it.

Let things go as they’re meant to go.

  
  


Another contraction, another push. By now Angrboda could see the bloody head emerging. It had ashy-blond hair.

They told Loki.

Loki blinked through her tears and almost reluctantly brought a hand down to feel for herself.

She cringed at the feel of her scarred flesh, seeking the soft sphere that was her child’s head.

Angrboda guided her gently.

“There you go,” they whispered as Loki finally felt it, melting in their arms for a moment.

The moment didn’t last long, and soon she screamed. She felt that horrible burning pain… it was almost as bad as when she’d delivered Jörmungandr.

Angrboda cupped their hand beneath the head, supporting the fragile skin at the bottom of Loki’s vagina.

“Gently, Loki. Don’t push, you’re doing good,” they assured as she panted. She was so agitated, body drawn tight as a bowstring as she resisted the urge to push.

Her body needed the time to open fully.

It was okay.

  
  


Then it was over.

She fell back into Angrboda’s embrace, gasping for air. Angrboda cradled the little head in the palm of their hand… and cried out.

“Ah! Ah… Norns, no… OH please…” they cursed, staring at their hand in shock. Instead of pale blue, the palm of their hand was now black.

Loki stared wide-eyed at Angrboda.

“What happened…?!” she demanded, “What happened, Boda?!”

She tried to sit up more, reaching down herself to cradle her child’s head.

Angrboda exhaled forcefully.

“My hand… got… got burnt…” they said, “when I touched it.”

Loki looked down between her own legs, for a moment worried that she’s in too much pain to feel the damage herself, but there’s nothing but her own pale, blood-smeared flesh.

“You two are still connected. That’s why you’re immune,” Angrboda guessed, putting on a smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine,” they assured and put their uninjured arm around Loki’s shoulders again.

They kissed Loki’s wet cheek and whispered, “You’re okay, take your time,” as she caught her breath. She was still shaking from the shock.

When the next contraction came Loki closed her eyes and pushed. She could feel her child turning as it passed through her birth canal. She kept her hand where it was, guiding the child as it came out.

The shoulders slipped free. It only took one more push.

  
  


Loki stared down at the infant as it slid out of her fully.

A girl.

  
  


Sobbing, Loki gently turned the newborn on its belly and rubbed the little back to help the fluids clear out of her lungs and mouth.

A sputter… a cough… then a scream.

And what a scream it was.

  
  


Loki turned the tiny child over again, blinking through her own tears to see her daughter’s face.

She’s in pain, just like all Loki’s children were upon being born.

  
  


“Boda… Boda, please…” Loki sobbed, lifting the child to her chest. She hated herself for it, but she begged Angrboda to ease their daughter’s pain sooner.

Angrboda only smiled.

They caught Loki’s chin and tilted her face up to kiss her.

“Anything,” they promised and performed the spell to sacrifice the rest of their heart.

  
  


Loki watched, as the color drained from Angrboda’s face. Their chest glowed with dreadful blackness.

In her arms the infant squirmed and cried.

  
  


Angrboda’s once powerful body grew heavier. With the last of their strength they watched over their child, even as everything else faded from their sight.

  
  


At last… the cries grew quiet.

  
  


Loki bit her lip to keep from screaming when she felt the infant grow light in her hands.

It seemingly floated, limbs uncurling… elongating… 

  
  


Within the last, terrifying seconds of Angrboda’s life their daughter grew from the size of an infant to almost match Loki’s crumpled up form upon the bed.

  
  


She jerked, tearing the cord attaching her to Loki and suddenly, from her toes and fingers up, her lily-white skin turned ashen grey.

Loki watched in horror as the decay spread to cover half of the girl’s body. A jagged line straight down the middle of her body from her scalp to her tail separated her living and dead half.

Her eyes flew open… and Angrboda’s fell shut.

  
  
Loki screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	17. The Child

She screamed until her breath and strength ran out, and she fell back onto the bed.

The newborn girl froze in shock, eyes wide with fear. She stared down at everything around her, the blood and amnion… the torn cord between herself and her mother… and the limp body of… her other mother?

  
  


Loki breathed for a few moments, then sat up with a hiss.

She rubbed her soft, empty belly and panted weakly.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispered, “I’m alright. You’re safe, you’re good,” she added, grimacing.

The girl helplessly reached for her mother, but hesitated, unsure how to help - or if she should try to help at all.

“All good,” Loki breathed, “it’s just the afterbirth. Hand… hand me that towel over there.”

The girl obeyed hastily, picking up the cloth Loki had pointed at. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but the one person in control of the situation seemed confident, so she just trusted her.

Loki shifted onto her knees, placing the towel beneath herself and pushed out the afterbirth. With it came a gush of blood and for a moment Loki felt lightheaded from the mere sight of it.

Was she really fine, losing this much blood?

She took a breath and moved on. She wrapped up the placenta she’d just delivered and shifted off the bed on shaky legs. She placed the bundle in the empty basin prepared for this purpose and took another breath.

Every step felt like an insurmountable challenge, and even though it didn’t hurt anymore, the numbness replacing the pain hardly made anything easier for her.

  
  


The girl watched. She was still naked, with the limp stump of her cord still attached to her flat belly.

You’d never imagine she’d been born only a few minutes prior.

  
  


A howl tore through the silence.

“ **MOTHER!** ” Fenrir howled.

The girl flinched and cowered, but Loki gave her a tender smile, “It’s okay. This is your brother,” she told her and put an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Come, meet him.”

She led her newborn to the window, just as Fenrir came to a halt beneath it.

“ **Mother! Mother… We did as you said!** ” Fenrir announced with nervous excitement.

Loki smiled.

“Well done, my love. Thank you,” she said and nudged the girl closer to the window to let Fenrir have a look at her.

“ **New sibling?** ” Fenrir inquired and sniffed at his sister.

Loki nodded.

“This is Hel,” she said softly.

Hel blinked up at her mother, surprised to be given a name. “Hel…” she repeated, shyly placing a hand upon her own chest.

Loki kissed her temple. “Yes. My love, born in secret,” she said, blinking back tears.

Hel tilted her head at Loki. “Born… I… I was born…” she paused uncertainly.

“Tonight, my love,” Loki told her and swallowed hard.

Fenrir grumbled and sniffed at Hel again.

“ **Hel smell like mother…** ” he growled softly. “ **And mean-faced Boda.** ”

Loki held her breath.

“ **Mean-faced Boda… gone?** ”

“Yes,” Loki whispered. “They’re gone.”

  
  


“They’re dead,” Hel said before she could stop herself.

  
  


Fenrir yapped.

“ **Gone to Helheim,** ” he said, dutifully teaching his little sister.

Loki took a shaky breath.

“You’re right,” she said to both her children. “But there is one thing we have to do before they can reach Helheim safely.”

She shuddered and turned to look at Angrboda’s lifeless body upon the bed.

Hel followed Loki’s gaze and lowered her head.

“We have to take them to the bog. And burn their body,” Loki said monotonously.

  
  


Loki and Hel carried Angrboda’s body down from the bedroom. They placed the corpse on Fenrir’s back and led him off to the bog.

  
  


Fenrir mutely followed, unnerved by Angrboda’s stillness.

  
  


When Loki placed their body upon the pyre, when she set the stacked wood on fire, when the flames engulfed Angrboda, Fenrir howled anxiously.

Hel held the wolf back.

She watched by Fenrir’s side, as Loki knelt before the fire.

  
  


Loki only wore a loose dress over her bloodied shift. A trickle of blood ran down her naked legs.

She had wrapped a bandage around Hel’s middle, protecting her navel, and put one of her own dresses on the girl.

  
  


The three of them stayed until the fire had burned out.

  
  


Fenrir and Hel practically carried Loki back home. They made it back upstairs to the bedroom.

At a loss Hel started cleaning up, putting the bloodied sheets and towels away in an empty corner of the room. She wandered aimlessly around the house until Loki called for her.

She was deathly pale, the only color on her face being the blotchy red surrounding her bloodshot eyes.

For a moment Hel wondered who looked worse, herself or her mother.

“Yes?” she whispered.

Loki smiled tiredly, “Come here,” she breathed weakly. “Let me hold you, my love…”

Hel sat on the edge of the bed. She hesitantly leaned in closer as Loki wrapped her arms around her waist, “Come. Let me hold you, please…”

Hel looked at Loki, her lips trembling. She had seen the empty crib. It was clearly new, having never been used. It was meant for her…

But she would never fit in it. She was not a babe, despite being less than a day old.

“You don’t need to hold me, mother. You should rest…”

Loki shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “No. I do. I… I… just gave birth to you. Let me hold you, please… please…”

White-hot guilt rushed through Hel’s veins. She slid her legs under the quilt covering Loki and shifted until she was pressed into her mother’s warm body.

It felt so good, so safe, so comfortable… Hel doubted she deserved such feelings at all.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered into Loki’s trembling chest.

Loki wrapped her arms around Hel, hiding her face in the girl’s hair. The soft ashy blond color had faded partially. Against the lifeless grey of Hel’s dead side the white strands stood out like white clouds on a dark november morning.

She shook her head and kissed the crown of her daughter’s head.

“No, my love. Don’t apologize,” she whispered, holding her closer. Hel’s dead side was so much thinner, weaker than her living side, Loki hardly dared to even hold her… but feeling Hel melting into the touch made her hold on tighter.

“Don’t apologize for anything.”

“I killed them…”

Loki shook her head, “No,” she insisted. “Boda gave their heart and life willingly. They died for you, for  _ love _ .”

Hel sobbed.

“But what about you…” she wondered.

Loki trembled.

“What about me… what about me…” she echoed and hid her face, shaking with heaving breaths and heart-wrenching sobs.

She wept all night, passing out at dawn.

  
  


Hel stayed where she was, not daring to slip out of her mother’s grasp. She watched her anxiously. Every tear running down Loki’s cheek, sent a jolt of pain through Hel’s heart. She hated seeing her mother in pain, but was helpless to do anything about it.

Underneath the window, Fenrir waited anxiously. He had heard Loki and Hel speak, their words not really making sense to him.

How could Loki and Hel say Angrboda was gone, when they hadn’t even left the home…? How could they carry Angrboda out to the bog and set them on fire…?  _ Didn’t mother love her Boda? _

Of course mother loved her Boda. Mother was heartbroken…!

The scent of blood and tears hung in the air around her. Fenrir could tell she wasn’t okay.

But what could he do?

He was just a wolf… too big to even fit inside the house, how would he possibly be able to help?

He could only howl piteously.

  
  


Loki wasn’t recovering.

She couldn’t even turn back into her normal form. She spent day upon day in bed, holding Hel in her arms. Deep down she knew it was a bad sign.

Hel felt helpless. She stayed with Loki, because that was the only thing ensuring Loki wasn’t dissolving into tears again and again.

The only times she left was when she went downstairs to grab a chunk of bread, a fruit and a cup of water for Loki.

Getting her to eat at all was a challenge though.

Hel carefully tilted the cup for Loki, watching her swallow slowly.

Loki turned her head away, whispering a weak thanks.

Hel sat with her, taking her clammy hands into hers.

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

Loki shook her head, eyes closing slowly. “No…”

Hel sighed and grabbed a damp cloth, dabbing away the faint sheen of sweat on Loki’s face and chest.

“Your chest is wet…” she pointed out suddenly.

Loki blinked… and glanced down at herself.

“Ah…” she sighed, “it’s just… the milk…”

Hel tilted her head, eyebrows raised.

“Milk…?”

Loki smiled.

“I would have nursed you… if you’d stayed a little babe…”

She caressed Hel’s cheek with a trembling hand. She’d gotten so used to the feel of Hel’s dead skin, she couldn’t remember her own horror at seeing the initial transformation.

“My body doesn’t understand… that it doesn’t need to feed you anymore,” she said after a moment.

  
  


Hel stared for a few moments at Loki’s wet chest.

Loki chuckled.

“Would you like to try?” she offered, expecting Hel to decline. Getting the girl to let herself be held was hard enough.

However Hel lowered her head shyly. She was hesitant… but intrigued.

Loki opened her arms.

Hel curled into Loki’s arms - used to the closeness by now - and watched as Loki pushed aside her shift until it slid off her shoulder, revealing her breast.

She winced as she carefully cupped it and brought it to Hel’s mouth.

The girl looked hesitant. She opened her mouth, but didn’t dare to latch on.

Loki caressed Hel’s cheek, “It’s okay. Careful with your teeth,” she whispered. Hel felt an indescribable feeling of sadness, a heaviness on her heart that she couldn’t really put her finger on.

She opened her mouth again and latched on carefully.

Loki whimpered at the sensitive feeling, but she held Hel close before she could pull away.

A sweet spurt of milk filled Hel’s mouth. She made a surprised noise… then relaxed and swallowed.

She felt Loki’s gentle hands combing through her hair as she suckled. She was neither hungry, nor did she care about the taste of milk, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She was filled with a deep sense of calm and safety. At this very moment it didn’t matter that she’d been born only a few days ago, it didn’t matter that her birth caused the death of her other parent… 

Loki laid back, hands coming to rest atop Hel’s head and back, her fingers drawing patterns across her skin.

For a moment she could imagine everything was okay.

  
  


A week had yet to pass, and Loki had grown even weaker.

Despite Hel’s best efforts, she simply didn’t heal.

When Loki slept - which she did most of the time - Hel sat on the windowsill and spoke to Fenrir, trying to come up with anything to help Loki, but the two of them were both too young, too inexperienced in worldly matters. How could they possibly find answers for questions even most common people wouldn’t have to consider in their lifetimes?

  
  


Afraid to lose Loki Hel laid near her whenever she could, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, arms loosely wrapped around her.

Despite having given birth already, Loki’s belly was still swollen.

  
  


Loki held Hel in her arms whenever she found the strength to move.

  
  


Suddenly the silence was shattered. Thunder struck the ground with a kaleidoscopic burst of colors.

It was the Bifröst.

  
  


Loki startled and with a strength Hel hadn’t believed possible anymore, pulled her close. She held herself up above her daughter, shoulders trembling, eyes wide with fear and despair.

Fenrir barked and growled, followed by a yelp and a whimper.

Loki’s knuckles turned white as her fingers dug into the sheets. She fought every instinct to rush down and protect her son.

“Open up, Loki. We know you are here,” sounded Odin’s voice. A moment of silence passed, as Loki held her breath, hoping he would just leave.

Then the door was pushed open, and the heavy footsteps of the Allfather entered the witch’s house. They walked up the stairs and lastly halted before the closed bedroom door.

“Loki,” Odin said as he pushed it open. He looked at the scene before him, the bedsheets and blankets stained with blood, the frail and trembling form upon the bed, the half-dead girl hidden beneath her.

“Loki, look at yourself…” he said and stepped closer to the bed.

“No!” Loki screamed, startling Hel. “No,  _ NO! _ You can’t!  _ You CAN’T! _ ”

She clutched her daughter tighter, hiding her face against her shoulder as her strength faded.

She sagged atop Hel, who curled into her mother’s embrace desperately.

“Mother…?!”

“You  _ can’t _ do this, Odin!” Loki begged.

Odin sighed.

“You are killing yourself, Loki,” he pointed out and grabbed Loki’s hand, pulling it away from Hel with terrifying ease.

Just how weakened had she become, that she couldn’t resist at all…?

“Or rather… she is killing you,” he added, grabbing Hel with his free hand.

Loki screamed.

“NO! She’s mine, she’s my child! You can’t do this to me, you can’t take her, Odin!”

Another pair of hands landed on Loki’s back, pulling him back.

“It has to be done, Loki. She is not meant for this realm, my dear…”

It was Frigg.

Loki twisted more, losing more and more contact with the last thing keeping her sane.

Fenrir howled.

Hel struggled, trying to hold onto her mother, trying to resist as the Allfather carried her away.

“Your daughter is a being of death! She killed your mate, and she would have killed you! I am taking her away, so that you may heal and she may flourish!” Odin insisted, but Loki didn’t care.

“Don’t you speak a word about my mate!” she growled, too weak to resist anymore as Frigg held her down. “She is my child, if she sought my death I’d embrace it for her!”

Hel whimpered.

“Mother! Mother, I  _ wouldn’t… _ ! I haven’t…!” she tried to argue, but Loki shook her head.

“I know, my love. I know. Don’t listen to him,” she sobbed. “He is nothing but a cruel man! Taking away my children one after the other! Hel is but a week old, I have yet to heal, but he’d rip her from my hands either way!”

Odin only sighed.

“Only you dare twist my words like this, Loki,” he accused. He summoned Gungnir to his hand and with a single strike he and Hel had disappeared.

  
  


Loki surged forward one more time, but Frigg held her back. Taking the spot Odin had occupied previously, Sif now approached too.

The two women held Loki as she fell apart for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An alternative - and more accurate - version of this chapter's illu can be found [here](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/db4da9ae-54e2-440b-b759-640bb236ea01/decuay6-fce826d7-9e09-4556-adcc-85d7836bffd0.jpg/v1/fill/w_1600,h_2134,q_75,strp/ttotts_chapter_17_illu_by_tenkamchi_sama_decuay6-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOiIsImlzcyI6InVybjphcHA6Iiwib2JqIjpbW3siaGVpZ2h0IjoiPD0yMTM0IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvZGI0ZGE5YWUtNTRlMi00NDBiLWI3NTktNjQwYmIyMzZlYTAxXC9kZWN1YXk2LWZjZTgyNmQ3LTllMDktNDU1Ni1hZGNjLTg1ZDc4MzZiZmZkMC5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9MTYwMCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.t7dpcSZ14iQTiqX3DqluoTMqviuhNX8LqC3V7HrvyuE) (CW: blood)


	18. All Mothers

Never before had Frigg encountered such a scene. Never before had she smelled the stench of rotten blood, of stale amnion, sweat and death.

As she followed Odin into Loki’s bedroom, she was frozen in shock for a good while, before remembering herself and helping to hold the furious witch down.

She knew Loki’s fury well. As a mother herself, she could well imagine her distress, but as Allmother she also knew her duty. Loki couldn’t keep her deathly daughter near, lest she spread death and disease throughout the mortal realm.

  
  


Frigg and Sif had heard of Odin’s plan to ride down into Ironwood, they both insisted on following, understanding that the witch would not take it well if she was left on her own right now.

  
  


Frigg put a sleeping spell on Loki once she had calmed a little. She and Sif then went about cleaning up the mess, discarding the filthy sheets. Next Frigg sent Sif down to cook, while she herself busied herself with healing Loki.

Loki had pushed herself way too far; far beyond the limits of her body and soul.

  
  


Frigg shuddered to think what would have happened if they hadn’t arrived in time. Loki would have perished from a pained fever, her broken heart shattered beyond hope.

  
  


Sif consoled Fenrir to the best of her abilities.

She assured the cowering wolf of her and Frigg’s good intentions, promising to help heal Loki.

Fenrir remained disbelieving. While he thought well of Sif - she had been nice to him - and Frigg - whom Loki respected very much - he couldn’t look past the fact that the two women had arrived with Odin… whom he hated.

So he refused to speak to her, straining his ears to hear Loki’s faint breaths, hoping to hear his mother speak again.

  
  


Sif brought a tray upstairs with sweetened oatmeal, herbal tea and the like. Loki needed to eat something that would give her strength, but wouldn’t upset her sensitive stomach.

Frigg woke the witch gently.

  
  


Loki groaned hoarsely, tilting her head to the side in a weak attempt at hiding from Frigg’s voice.

“Come on, you need to eat. You need strength to recover,” Frigg insisted, carefully propping Loki up on a few pillows.

Loki turned her empty gaze on Frigg.

“What of my children…” she asked.

Sif sat on the side of the bed and took Loki’s hand. “Fenrir is waiting for you, Loki,” she told her. Frigg brushed back some of the hair falling loosely into Loki’s face.

“Indeed,” she said and smiled encouragingly. “Your children are safe. It is your turn to heal now.”

Loki shook her head.

“Why not let me die…” she whispered, turning her head away before Frigg could try to pick up the spoon to feed her.

Frigg sighed.

“Would you be happier, dwelling in Fólkvangr?” she wondered.

Loki’s eyes snapped up to Frigg.

“What business would a witch like me have in Fólkvangr!?” she hissed.

Frigg raised an eyebrow.

“Birth is the battlefield of women,” she said.

“I did not die in childbirth,” Loki pointed out.

“Not directly, but the injuries that would have taken your life were sustained when you birthed Hel. You fought your battle, and won your honor. The gates of Fólkvangr would have welcomed you,” Frigg explained.

Suddenly Loki’s strength was gone. All resistance faded.

If death wouldn’t have brought her back to her mate and child, then what point was there to it?

  
  


When Frigg tried to feed Loki, she allowed it.

At first Sif and Frigg worried that the witch’s spirit was beyond saving, but slowly they could see the glint in Loki’s eyes sharpening again.

She would cling to life, if only to spite those who hurt her and her family.

  
  


Odin had arrived with Hel in Helheim, his hand still grasping the writhing girl’s arm like the stem of a delicate flower.

“Mother!” Hel cried, struggling. “I want my mother, I want back! Take me back!”

Odin shook her, “You can’t go back! You belong here among the dead,” he told her. Instead of submitting Hel only fought harder.

  
  


Angrboda had only arrived a few days prior, resigned to their existence here, with only the dead to keep them company, when they heard a voice they’d recognize anywhere.

It didn’t matter that they’d never heard Hel’s voice in life.

Their heart just knew.

“My child?” they called and rushed over to the struggling pair.

  
  


Hel twisted out of Odin’s grasp and threw herself into Angrboda’s arms. The jötunn caught their child with ease, holding onto the girl with not even a thought of hesitation.

“What is the matter, why are you here? Where is your mother?!”

Hel sobbed into Angrboda’s chest.

Odin straightened his back to stand at full height and met Angrboda’s venomous eyes.

“This child does not belong among mortals. She is destined for greater accomplishments, as queen of Helheim,” he announced, firmly planting Gungnir on the ground. “I give her this realm to rule over.”

Hel turned to glare at Odin.

“I don’t want this realm! I want home!”

“And bring death upon that pitiful mother of yours?”

“I would not!” Hel argued, turning to look up at Angrboda with unconcealed urgency, “I would never, not  _ her! _ ”

Angrboda embraced their child and soothed her.

  
  


“Leave, Allfather,” Angrboda growled.

  
  


Behind them two more figures approached.

The graceful and delicate Laufey and her towering husband, Fárbauti.

  
  


Odin bowed his head once and disappeared.

  
  


Angrboda took a deep breath and turned to face Loki’s parents.

The two of them had welcomed them to Helheim, guiding them to their new home. They had taken Angrboda in as a part of their family, never questioning their love for Loki.

The rings upon their neck said all there was to be said.

  
  


“Welcome, dear child,” Laufey greeted, bowing her head. She was smaller and softer than Loki had ever been.

By Fárbauti’s side she looked tiny.

Hel met the woman’s eyes and wiped her tears.

“I am the mother of your mother. I am Laufey,” Laufey introduced herself, extending a hand to the girl.

Hel opened her mouth to speak, but Laufey shook her head.

“I know who you are, dear child,” she assured and smiled up at Angrboda. “Boda has told us all they knew about you and your siblings.”

Hel looked unconvinced, “They told you I killed them…”

Angrboda laughed and hugged Hel a bit closer. “Yes! Aren’t you truly my child?” they cheered, completely catching Hel off guard.

Laufey chuckled and fondly shook her head. By her side Fárbauti sat on the ground, so he was on eye-level with Hel.

“We know how Boda came to be here,” Fárbauti assured, “and we don’t hold any of it against you. The circumstances of your birth were decided upon by the Norns, before you were even conceived,” he explained.

Hel lowered her head.

“But what of mother…?” she wondered, looking down at herself. She still wore that same dress Loki had put on her that night. It was oversized and loose on her, held in place with a pair of clasps and a woven belt.

Angrboda recognized the dress of course and sighed.

“I don’t know,” they admitted. “She either copes and heals somehow… or we’ll welcome her here before long.”

Hel pursed her trembling lips and took a shaky breath, but Fárbauti shook his head.

“Our Loptr won’t be broken so easily,” he said confidently. “He’ll sooner bring death to the Allfather than bow his head to the injustice he suffered.”

Laufey sighed.

“Let us hope it does not come to that,” she muttered.

Angrboda lowered their head. They knew very well what Loki was capable of.

They mirrored Laufey’s sentiment.

  
  


“For now, let us show you around your realm,” they offered, hoping to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

  
  


In time Loki healed.

  
  


It was a dreary morning, when he took his original shape again. With his energy replenished his Seidr came easily to his veins and healed the damage within a few hours. He rose before either of his saviors woke.

Frigg rested with her arms folded over the edge of the bed, slumped in her seat and Sif slept downstairs on the cot.

Loki looked at the Allmother and found that he felt indifferent towards her.

Had he not respected her once? Had he not liked her even?

Had she not brought him safely through his centuries in Asgard, taught him so many things he could hardly name them all?

  
  


Even so, he found no gratitude in his heart, no fondness, no warmth. He left the bed and dressed in a tunic and a pair of leggings, over which he wore a loose robe and sat at the loom.

He wove for a few hours as the sun crept higher, caressing the tops of the trees, setting them alight with a golden glow.

Gone was the dreary atmosphere… yet his melancholy remained.

Fenrir woke up next, howling to greet the day.

Frigg startled.

“It’s just my son, don’t worry,” Loki said monotonously, not looking up from the loom.

Frigg pressed a hand to her chest and exhaled. “Oh…” she said limply. She hadn’t expected Loki to be on her - or rather, his - feet again so soon.

Fenrir yapped beneath the window and Loki leaned forward to look at him. “Good morning, my love,” he said. Fenrir perked up at first, but whimpered at the monotonous tone of Loki’s voice.

Loki put on a smile, “I’m just tired, my love,” he assured. Fenrir didn’t seem convinced, but grumbled still.

“ **Mother…** ”

Frigg watched the two interact.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if her husband had chosen wrong. If he should have allowed Hel to stay with her mother, and only sent her and Sif to heal Loki.

But no, her husband wouldn’t make such a mistake.

He had spent the past week making his decision, asking Mímir for advice as he mulled over this situation.

Of course Odin understood how terrible it was to part a mother from her child, so… how could he make such a decision lightly?

Surely he had taken action only, when he was certain there was no other way.

  
  


But even so, Frigg couldn’t help but feel… guilty.

Her hands had held Loki down, while her husband’s had taken Hel away. She was as guilty as he was, if this decision had been the wrong one.

  
  


As she watched Loki sit on the windowsill, reaching down to caress his son’s muzzle with nothing but affection, she wondered if she and Odin had been wrong.

After all, Loki was reckless but not stupid. Loki had survived many a thing, and lived for millenia safely… could he truly be so naive as to overlook his children’s innate dangerous violence?

Granted, the wolf had been nothing but sweet and obedient around his mother, and had yet to harm a single person, but just because a pup was good, didn’t mean the hound it’d grow into would be too.

Frigg vividly remembered the Völva’s prophecy, about Loki’s evil brood…

The very monsters who’ll cause Ragnarök itself.

  
  


Loki meanwhile assured his son and told him to go and hunt. They’d need more than just oats and grains to eat while he continued to recover.

“I’ll give you and Sif a meal, then you can go,” Loki said, carefully hopping off the windowsill. He spoke coldly, monotonously.

So unlike the smooth silver tongued, lighthearted lilt Frigg was used to.

He was probably still hurting, not in body but in heart and soul, she thought and nodded politely.

Loki refused Frigg’s help as he walked down the stairs to the main parts of the house. He went to wake up Sif, lightly shaking her shoulder.

He figured the two women had pushed themselves, staying up late to care for him.

He appreciated them, but still in his heart, he felt no gratitude. Only bitterness and resentment.

Sif startled, “Allmother is everything-” she gasped as she sat up, then stared up at Loki. “Oh,” she breathed and sagged back on the cot, relaxing.

Loki gave her a smile.

“I’m not the Allmother, but I can tell you everything is alright.”

She laughed and pulled him into a hug.

“Norns, I am so glad…” she whispered into his shoulder. “Who would I go to for my next child, if not you?”

Loki pulled away, rolling his eyes.

“Please, there are plenty of capable midwives in Asgard,” he pointed out. “I helped you with Ullr, because you couldn’t let anyone know of his parentage which… in the end everyone found out about anyways…” he shrugged, “at least your part of it,” he added.

Sif huffed and crossed her arms, “He looked so much like me, nobody would believe me if I told them he wasn’t mine,” she pointed out. Loki gave her a look, “Nobody would have noticed that if you’d given him to an orphanage,” he suggested casually.

Sif’s eyes widened.

“How could you say that?!” she asked, “Wasn’t it  _ you _ who taught me to bond with my son right after his birth?”

Loki turned his venomous eyes on her.

  
  


Sif’s blood froze.

She was too comfortable around Loki, she was too naive, forgetting just why she even was here in his home.

What she had… allowed to happen.

  
  


“Yes it was.”

Sif could practically taste the hatred on his breath. Tears welled up in her eyes and she lowered her head.

She hiccuped and wiped at her eyes with her sleeves.

Loki stood besides her and watched.

  
  


“It… It wasn’t my decision…” she sobbed, “I… I thought it was so cruel… no child would hurt their mother! But what could I have said when the Allfather decided to take her?”

She looked up at Loki, tears still running down her cheeks.

“I c-came because I wanted to help somehow. After what you did for me, I wanted to help you too…”

Loki sighed. He almost felt bad for lashing out against her of all people.

“Stop crying,” he said softly. “Your son is with you and your husband. Rejoice in the health of your family.”

Sif didn’t stop crying.

She took his hand, shivering as his cold fingertips grazed her skin and looked up at him again.

“Who will I go to for my next child…?”

Loki was about to repeat his previous reply to her, when he met her eyes and  _ saw _ . 

He huffed and knelt down before her, wordlessly placing a hand on her stomach. “Ah, it’s early still. Eight weeks?”

Sif was startled into silence.

Loki looked up at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Y-yes. Eight or nine,” she replied, wiping her tears.

He nodded and rose again. “Any sickness so far?” he asked as he walked over to the front door to greet Fenrir as he returned.

Sif shook her head.

“No, none,” she added, noticing he wasn’t looking at her.

  
  


Fenrir came to a halt in front of Loki and laid down the boar he had caught. He barked and yapped excitedly.

“Welcome back, my love. Thank you. Let me treat my guests to an early meal, then I’ll spend time with you, alright?”

“ **Mother give hug!** ” Fenrir insisted, flopping down in front of Loki. Loki sighed and obliged his son, hugging his enormous head before picking up the dead boar to bring it inside to cook.

“ **Mother hurry!** ” Fenrir demanded, inching forward to stick his nose in the open door.

Loki pretended to try and close the door, much to Fenrir’s amusement.

  
  


Sif followed Loki, wanting to help out but he shook his head. “You and Frigg have helped enough. It’s my turn to pay you back,” he said to her.

Frigg entered the room and stood next to Sif.

“You don’t need to pay us back,” she told him, lightly putting her hand on Sif’s back. “We are all mothers, we should support each other for that reason alone.”

Loki met her eyes and smiled.

“True.”

He turned towards the kitchen. “But I insist. I won’t poison you, don’t fear!”


	19. Sorrow brought

Loki watched Sif and Frigg leave, standing next to Fenrir, who laid happily next to his mother. The two women offered to take him to Asgard, so he wouldn’t be so lonely, but he refused.

Frigg lowered her head, understanding. Of course Loki wouldn’t want to go where Odin was.

As much as she tried to defend her husband, it wouldn’t work.

Maybe that was fine. Loki was right to feel hurt over the loss of his child… after a traumatic delivery, that nearly cost his life no less.

She understood and held his hand as she bid him goodbye for now.

Sif hugged Loki before she left. She asked again if he’d be her midwife.

“A midwife should be with you from start to finish,” he pointed out, arms crossed. “I am not leaving Ironwood any time soon,” he told her.

He wasn’t ready to be away from home so soon, but he promised to come when it was time for Sif’s child to be born.

  
  


And so they parted.

Loki went to sit with Fenrir to hug and pet him as much as he wanted, then returned home to eat and do what he usually did when he felt lost and restless.

He went to weave Seidr.

He wove through most of the night, then finally went to sleep.

He rose with the sun and went down into the library.

  
  


Books upon books, notes upon notes were piled high on the shelves and upon the floor.

He started reading.

He only stopped when hunger forced him to eat, or Fenrir howled for his comfort, then returned to read more.

He devoured word after word written in Angrboda’s hand.

  
  


Somehow a month went by like this.

Many nights Loki fell asleep in the library, curled over a book, hands splayed on the open pages.

Other nights he went down into the cellar, further exploring the gifts Angrboda had left behind.

  
  


The candles had long gone out, not even the moon was there to illuminate the room, but Hel didn’t need light to guide her.

  
  


She walked down into the cellar and reached out to rub her mother’s back until she stirred.

“Mmh…” Loki whimpered, now realizing how sore his neck felt after reading for hours on end, when he realized somebody was in the room with him.

“Mother,” Hel said before he could ask who she was. “It’s me.”

Loki pulled her into his arms immediately.

“Hel! My love, my dearest, my good child, oh Hel…!” he gasped, kissing her face and hair wherever he could.

“How are you here? What are you doing?”

Hel practically melted into Loki’s embrace.

“New moon,” she said, “means nobody is watching.”

He pulled away to look at her, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness.

“What do you mean…?”

Hel smiled.

“Come with me,” she said and took his hand, pulling him out of the cellar and away from the house.

Fenrir was awake already, though he remained quiet, not wanting to alert anyone of their secret procession into the forest.

Hel had forbidden him from making any noise and though she was his youngest sibling he obeyed her somehow.

  
  


Hel led Loki and Fenrir to the bog, where Angrboda was waiting with open arms.

Loki ran ahead and almost threw himself into their arms, but stopped just before he could touch them.

He couldn’t.

He was alive and they were dead.

He could only see them.

His heart broke anew and he sank to his knees, weeping.

Angrboda huffed and knelt besides him, placing their hand upon his back, even though they couldn’t feel him.

“Oh Loki,” they sighed and kissed the top of his head, but all he felt was a brush of the wind.

“Look at me at least, if you cannot feel me,” Angrboda said softly.

Loki obeyed immediately, staring up at Angrboda. They looked so present, like they were truly here… and they were! Only… only they were gone.

He sagged again, sobbing anew, but they stopped him with a look.

“We only have tonight, before I must go and wait another month,” they reminded and kissed his lips.

He bit his lip to keep from crying. 

He felt nothing.

  
  


“Tell me about you, Loki. Are you well? Did you recover?” they asked to distract him.

  
  


Loki stared up at them and shook his head.

“I miss you, Boda.”

  
  


Behind them Hel and Fenrir stood, waiting. Hel kept a hand on Fenrir’s nose, keeping him in place and quiet.

His tail wagged though, giving away his excitement, even if he couldn’t pounce on Angrboda as he’d want to do.

He didn’t understand why Loki was crying so much.

Wasn’t Angrboda back now? Wasn’t everything back to normal now?

  
  


“They took her away, Boda,” Loki lamented quietly, “less than a week after… and they took her away…”

Angrboda knew this of course.

“Had you recovered?” they asked, though they deep down knew the answer already.

Loki looked at Angrboda. The look in his eyes said it all.

“Oh Loki,” Angrboda sighed and kissed him again. They couldn’t help but try and try, yearning for his warmth, yearning for his scent and touch, but getting none.

They too could only see him.

  
  


Eventually Hel let Fenrir go, and the wolf jumped forward eagerly, but rushed right through Angrboda.

They sighed.

He hadn’t understood it even now.

“ **Mean-faced Boda,** ” Fenrir whined and circled back to flop down in front of them. “ **Why avoid me, mean-faced Boda?** ”

Angrboda smiled and reached out to pet him, but never made contact.

“I am not avoiding you,” they assured. “I am dead.”

“ **Stop being dead then. Want hugs and treats!** ” Fenrir complained, “ **Want mother happy too. Mother misses mean-faced Boda.** ”

  
  


Hel stayed with Loki until he fell asleep.

Until his tears dried up and all strength faded from his body.

She relished the time she spent with Loki, holding onto him as she watched him sleep. It was the first time she saw him in his male form, but it didn’t matter to her. Loki was her mother, no matter what.

Part of her missed the softness of her mother, the scent of milk that stuck to her skin… but at the same time she relished the quiet strength of her mother’s body.

She sensed how safe Loki felt in this form; how at home and natural. She could only appreciate it.

  
  


By the time the sun crept up above the wispy treetops Hel was gone.

  
  


Loki went back to his daily routine, weaving, eating, reading… sleeping.

Eventually ran out of new material to read. No more notes, recipes, books or journals from Angrboda.

He started re-reading old books. Ones that he had read with Angrboda, sometimes leaning on their shoulder as they read the texts out loud, occasionally turning towards him to add more information, or answer his questions.

Some of these books they had read when he had only just arrived. They were the foundational texts of witchcraft.

They contained information such as… What ingredients are needed to make a basic potion for stomach aches? How do you read the clouds? Where do babies come from?

Loki vividly remembered reading these texts. His mind had been filled to the brim with knowledge of Seidr. All the things Frigg had taught him still lingered in his mind. The rules of propriety in how one should and should not tangle with the threads of fate.

He found himself reciting her words about the precise wording in woven prayers… and he’d felt wise.

When he started learning under Angrboda, he realized just how ignorant he truly was.

Every time he asked Angrboda about a particularly complicated concept, and their reply was “I don’t know,” he understood that sometimes… there was no  _ knowing _ .

He would never admit it out loud, but he became humble.

The first time he watched Angrboda resort to blood magic, it was a desperate attempt to save a life.

Loki’s prayers had proven useless, and a first-time mother bled to death under his very hands, while her child suffocated within her. Angrboda had embraced the woman from behind, their trembling hands attempting to still the bleeding, trying to let the woman’s injuries pour into their own flesh, but to no avail.

They had come too late.

  
  


“ _ Do not tangle with a fate that is given truth before you. Do not try to change what has come to pass. Never overstep the boundary between future and past.  _

_ Your place is behind the scenes of fate. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Your place is confined to whispers; only pleas, never orders or demands. _ ” 

Frigg’s voice echoed in his mind alongside the dying woman’s gargling wails.

How easy would it have been to reach into the tapestry of fate and to tie a knot where a thread had torn, to bring back what was lost… and yet how catastrophic would the consequences be if he dared to meddle in affairs that were not his to meddle in.

  
  


That night Loki had stood before Angrboda and slapped the woman’s husband for his accusations towards them.   
What did this mortal know, what did he understand of the pains and effort Angrboda had poured into this woman?! Nothing!   
Nothing at all.

Loki sang the man to sleep, never to rise again.

  
  


Two more months went by. Twice more did Loki come to the bog to reunite with his mate, telling them about the books he read, the memories his thoughts lingered upon… 

Angrboda in turn told him about their time in Helheim, about the rites of the dead, the culture of those who are disconnected from the living.

Helheim operates on a foundation of its own. The common laws of Seidr, sorcery and witchcraft don’t apply there.

They started writing manuscripts again, giving them to Hel, who’d pass them on to Loki.

  
  


One morning found Loki at the table, a letter from Asgard in his hand.   
It was from Eir, the wise healer who cared for Sif throughout her pregnancy.

Hel arrived in the hours of twilight, surprised to find her mother awake already.

“Mother?”

Loki blinked, then smiled. He laid down the letter in his hand and got up to embrace his daughter. “Hello, my love,” he greeted her and leaned down to kiss the crown of her head.

By now she wore clothes of her own, instead of the borrowed dress Loki had put on her the night she was born.

She snuggled into Loki and smiled. “I can’t stay long,” she murmured into his chest, clinging to him despite her words.

Loki sat down again, pulling Hel into his lap.

“I know. Let me hold you,” he said and kissed her temple. “What brings you here? Another manuscript?”

Hel nodded.

She handed over a stack of loosely bound pages.

Loki took them and set them down on the table to free his hands again. He held Hel close, rocking her from side to side like a sleepy child.

Hel sighed, resting her living cheek against Loki’s shoulder.

  
  


“I welcomed a crew of sailors the other day,” she told him after a while.

He looked at her. “Oh?”

“Brother.”

Loki chuckled softly.

“Did you visit him?” he asked, ignoring the fact his son had killed mortals again.

Hel nodded.

“I came to collect the dead. Had a chat with him,” she said with a light shrug, then turned to look at Loki.

“He misses you. Mother Boda and Fenrir…”

Stricken Loki lowered his head.

He had taken a long time to wallow in his grief, to heal and grow.

  
  


To tell the truth, he was still not over it.

  
  


Within the following days Loki rode to the shore on Fenrir’s back to spend a while with Jörmungandr.

Part of him feared that it was too soon yet. That his own pain and Fenrir’s inability to understand the concept of death would only hurt Jörmungandr more, but even so, he couldn’t stay away any longer.

He too missed his child.

Even if that child was so big now, his head was taller that Loki himself, even when laid flat upon the ground.

Loki sat on a rock next to Jörmungandr, while Fenrir played in the surf, his black coat getting hopelessly covered in salty water and sand.

Loki told Jörmungandr about the manuscripts he received from Angrboda, knowing his son didn’t care much for the intricacies of sorcery and witchcraft, but wanting to fill the silence, wanting to let his son hear his voice.

  
  


In the late hours of the evening Loki and Fenrir returned home. Loki didn’t ride on Fenrir’s back, wanting to savor the time he spent away from home… wanting to lengthen the time he spent within his other son’s reach…

Not that it mattered. Jörmungandr had slipped back beneath the waves when he bade Loki a good evening.

A few times Loki thought he could see the glint of Jörmungandr’s scales beneath the waves in the light of the setting sun but… before long the sea blackened with the coming of night.

  
  


By the time they got home Loki was too tired to read anymore.

  
  


A month went by again.

Hel again came to reunite her parents for a single night.

Loki had learned to handle Angrboda’s fleeting presence by now. No longer attempting to reach out or touch them. He sat on a fallen tree and watched them speak.

They told him about the things they’d learned, the people they’d met… 

They told him about his parents, though he rarely liked to dwell on them. At least he knew now that Laufey had indeed guided Fárbauti as he arrived in Helheim.

  
  


No new moon night ever seemed to last long enough though.

Loki’s heart felt bitter every time he had to watch Angrboda fade back into darkness. 

  
  


The sweeter his time with Angrboda and Hel was, the deeper the bitterness seeped into his heart afterwards.

  
  


When Eir sent another message, Loki was almost surprised to notice another 3 months had gone by already.

Sif was doing well, her child growing normally. Loki wondered why Eir even bothered to involve him in this, and didn’t just take over caring for Sif and her child. Surely she and the other healers in Asgard knew better than to trust him, right? They must know just how volatile and cruel he could be… if they fear his children this much, don’t they fear  _ him _ thrice more?

Maybe some of them still remember the cheeky youth he was back when he lived in Asgard, maybe some had seen him injured more often than witnessed his tricks and pranks, so their feelings towards him were biased… but even so, didn’t at least Eir know better?

When he had promised Sif to be there when she’d call for his aid, he was fairly certain that the call would never come; that she’d instead grow comfortable with Eir, a fellow ásynja who is well trusted and respected in the court of Asgardia instead of him, a Jötunn half breed witch with a terrible reputation.

But she still told Eir to send updates to Loki, as Eir made sure to point out.

  
  


Another month went by.

Again Loki, Fenrir, Hel and Angrboda met at the bog. They handed over their latest manuscript, then settled for the night, talking about this and that.

Loki told Angrboda about his continued involvement in Sif’s pregnancy, to which they only chuckled fondly.

“Lady Sif is a loyal girl,” they said wisely. “She put her trust in you in a moment of need and you never failed her. So her trust in you remains unbroken.”

Loki let out a sigh, playing with the polished bone that hung from Angrboda’s chain upon his neck.

“She expects everyone else to meet her with the same loyalty as her own though,” he murmured.

Angrboda chuckled, “Is she wrong though?” they asked and smiled at Loki when he shot them a glare. Of course he would come to Asgard when Sif called for him. He had promised it after all, and if not for his personal respect towards her, then at least his duty as her trusted midwife he’d honor that promise.

Hel sat with Fenrir, snuggling into his side watching Loki and Angrboda talk.

“Still, even if she trusts me, shouldn’t all of Asgard be against my involvement?”

Angrboda shrugged.

“Do you think they’ll speak up if that husband of hers supports her decision?”

Loki scoffed, “Thor of all people… in favor of my involvement?”

Angrboda tilted their head and hummed thoughtfully.

“Is it truly that unlikely? Did he not support her decision when she invited you to their wedding? Did he not accompany you to Jötunnheimr and help chase Svadilfari?” they wondered, raising an eyebrow at Loki.

“He agreed to invite me before he fully realized who I even was. And he came with me to Jötunnheimr to make up for striking Jörmungandr,” Loki argued, “He is smitten with Sif, and weak to her assets.”

Angrboda rolled their eyes.

“Did you not praise her previously, for her courage and bravery? For picking up the sword?” they inquired somewhat playfully.

Loki exhaled and crossed his arms and legs.

“So I did,” he admitted, “but she let Odin take Hel from me. Even if she wasn’t involved in the decision… nor in the execution thereof…” he trailed off his sentence, lowering his head.

Hel rose, moving from Fenrir’s side over to Loki. He pulled her into his lap, hugging her wordlessly.

  
  


“Your thoughts of her are tainted by that memory,” Angrboda pointed out knowingly.

Loki didn’t argue.

“It’s the same with Frigg,” he muttered. “I dread the day that I will be summoned to Asgard… where I’ll see her again.” He exhaled forcefully. “She and Eir will probably hover around Sif too, lest I do something  _ terrible _ to her…”

  
  


Angrboda only smiled softly.

“Such is the work of a witch,” they say with a shrug, “always risky, often thankless, sometimes wonderful, rarely easy and never on your own terms.”

They click their tongue and tilt their head, “Well, that is if you choose to  _ serve _ the people.”

In Loki’s arms Hel made a noise.

“But then,” she started, “why do such work? Why serve the people at all?”

Loki didn’t reply and instead looked at Angrboda.

He realized that he had never really chosen this line of work for himself. He had simply followed in Angrboda’s footsteps.

Angrboda shrugged again and sighed.

“I inherited my parents’ vast knowledge in books that were written when Ymir was still around. I was taught by them, just as they were by their parents and so forth,” they explained, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from Hel’s face.

“When I came of age and received my rings, I was given the choice to follow my parents’ path or carve out my own. So… I made my decision, and I stuck with it until the end.”

  
  


Loki gave a faint exhale, stricken by that.

Unlike Angrboda he had never truly made the conscious decision to be a witch, to serve the people who come to him for aid. He had gotten used to the routine of it, thanks to his long years living with Angrboda, but in his heart he wasn’t quite there.

A part of him came to realize, just how pretentious and dishonest he truly was at heart.

He had gone to find Angrboda after leaving Asgard, in part because he had felt safe with them in Ironwood, during a time when he felt most vulnerable, but mostly just out of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge.

He had offered his body in exchange for knowledge, but as he learned from them, he had never adopted the underlying philosophy of their craft.

  
  


For so long he had thought of it as strange, for a lonely misanthrope like Angrboda to be so devoted to their duty as a witch… but maybe he understood it at last.

Unlike him Angrboda had learned to honor the philosophy of their ancestors alongside their craft and knowledge.

  
  


“Loki,” Angrboda said in a tone that told him they had called his name a few times already. He blinked.

“If I didn’t know that look on your face, I’d have gotten jealous of the person who’s able to capture your thoughts so fully,” they teased.

Loki’s eyes widened as he saw Angrboda’s smug expression, wry smirk and suggestively raised eyebrow.

“What…” he was at a loss for words.

Hel giggled in his lap.

Angrboda laughed as well and leaned forward, elbows upon their knees, leaning their chin on the palm of their hand, the other reaching forward to trace the steep fold between Loki’s eyebrows.

His features relaxed even though he couldn’t feel Angrboda’s touch.

“You’ll do good, Loki. I know I taught you well,” they told him, and he couldn’t help but wonder, just how much of his thoughts they had been able to read in his eyes.

He wanted to argue, but as he met Angrboda’s gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to disbelieve their words.


	20. Open Blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a way to continue posting chapters even during therapy.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy them!

Around the time of Sif’s last month of pregnancy Loki rode to Asgard.

Fenrir trotted faithfully behind Loki and Svadilfari, carrying the bags with Loki’s clothes and utensils upon his back.

Loki could have ridden on Fenrir’s back and left Svadilfari in Ironwood, but he decided on a whim to let the stallion reunite with his son. So he summoned him with a snap of the reigns of the magic bridle, saddled him and rode for Asgard.

He hoped to be back in time for the next new moon night, not wanting to miss his reunion with Angrboda.

Still, he felt obligated to at least provide this much care for Sif, even if he hated to return to Asgard of all places.

Heimdallr regarded Loki with a dispassionate expression as he approached Asgardia’s gates.

“All-seeing friend,” Loki greeted with a sharp smile.

“I don’t remember becoming your friend at any point,” Heimdallr replied evenly.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Would you rather be called all-seeing foe?” he offered.

“I do not remember becoming your foe either,” Heimdallr pointed out.

“Oh?” Loki hummed, raising an eyebrow.

Heimdallr sighed.

“You know I saw all that I needed to see, don’t you?” he said. “That shielding spell of yours is only as strong as you are. If I had not alerted the Allfather to turn his gaze upon you, you would dwell in Fólkvangr now.”

The witch’s smile grew sharper.

“Of course,” he simpered, “was this not an act of good will among friends? An act of kindness to save my life, good friend?”

Heimdallr gave no response. He stepped aside, allowing Loki to ride past the gates.

Fenrir remembered Asgard of course.

He had been here with Loki, when Loki was pregnant with Jörmungandr.

Many years have gone by since.

A sense of unease filled the wolf, and he came up closer to Loki, rumbling quietly. Loki reached over and caressed Fenrir’s head.

“Easy, my love. Don’t fret, I won’t let anything happen to us,” he assured.

He meant it.

By now he had learned many cunning tricks from the books Angrboda had hidden from him in the past.

Many had magic locks keeping their pages sealed, but he didn’t let that stop him.

After returning home from the bog with new manuscripts, his curiosity burning like an open flame, he forced the books to reveal their secrets to him.

One of them, Angrboda had wrapped in parchment, with a note written upon it.

“Do not read this book. It contains some of the most dangerous spells and potions I have ever laid eyes on. None of these are fit to use in our practice of witchcraft. I implore you, do not read it.”

The title alone enticed Loki enough, but with Angrboda’s warning on top of that, he couldn’t possibly resist the temptation.

“A Breach of Nornen Trust: The Means of Confoundment - How to Channel Yggdrasil’s Marrow to Serve You”

Of course Loki then immediately broke open the enchanted seal keeping the book closed and started reading.

To his infinite amusement he found another note from Angrboda stuck between the first few pages.

“I knew you’d do this. In order to keep you as safe as possible, I have listed the most useful books I could find, that help contain the ill effects of some of these spells and cure most of the poisons this book has to offer. Keep them on hand if you ever try any of the things written in here.”

The more he read, the more he missed his mate, whose warnings he found scribbled in every margin and free spot of this book.

More than most of the books Angrboda had left him, he felt their presence when he read this one.

It became his favorite.

He read it in bed, not even looking at the spells and recipes. He only read the margins, fondly arguing with Angrboda’s warnings.

He had left it in a pocket dimension, finding it far too dangerous to take the book with him to Asgard.

Another reason why he was so sour upon arriving.

“Mother,” Fenrir grumbled, nosing at Loki’s thigh. By now Svadilfari was used to Fenrir, no longer startling whenever the wolf approached him. Still, he gave a jolt as Fenrir’s damp breath brushed over his flank.

Loki smiled at Fenrir, “Yes?” he hummed, patting Svadilfari’s neck to keep the steed calm.

“Want home.”

Loki’s smile faltered and he exhaled slowly.

“Me too, my love,” he admitted. “But I have a promise to honor, and I know you wouldn’t like to stay alone in Ironwood.”

Fenrir growled. Loki was right of course, but that didn’t mean that Fenrir was happy.

Loki chided the wolf, but didn’t tell him to keep quiet, letting him growl at the gathering crowd as they approached Asgard’s palace. While Loki had to sweeten his words and soften his glares, at least Fenrir could show his true feelings.

Thor awaited them. Two youngsters stood besides him.

Ullr and Thiálfi. Ullr had grown a lot since Loki last saw him, and Thiálfi had put on some healthy weight, most of it muscle.

He stood a head taller than Ullr, his expression stern in an innocent imitation of Thor’s own.

Loki dismounted Svadilfari and bowed with a mocking smile.

“What an honor to be greeted by the great Thunderer himself,” he said, then turned to look at the two boys.

“What a pleasure to see you again, Ullr. You’ve grown so much. I’m sure your mother is besides herself with pride,” he praised, never giving Thor a chance to return his greeting.

Ullr glanced up at Thiálfi, then at Thor, the latter giving him a pained smile.

Loki ignored it.

“And you, Thiálfi, I hope you have been well since our travels to Jötunnheimr?”

“Which I did not ask to partake in,” Thiálfi pointed out sharply, much to Loki’s amusement.

“Adversity builds character,” Loki assured and finally turned his eyes on Thor again.

Thor took a deep breath.

“I hope you had a pleasant journey, Loki,” he greeted.

Loki smiled.

“I did,” he lied effortlessly.

“I take it, preparations have been made for my arrival?” he asked after a moment and pointedly glanced at his son.

Thor nodded.

“Of course,” he said, “we know you are loath to part with your children.”

Loki looked stricken.

“Indeed I am.”

Feeling guilty Thor cleared his throat and ushered them onward. He brought them to the stables, where Svadilfari would stay, then to a free field near the forest surrounding the palace.

This was where Loki had left Fenrir the previous time he had come to Asgard.

“I figured he’d be comfortable here, as he was last time,” Thor said awkwardly.

Loki gave an appreciative nod, then looked up at Fenrir.

“Mean-faced Boda told me to stay with mother,” the wolf growled.

Loki smiled and caressed Fenrir’s cheeks, pressing his forehead between his furry brows.

“You are with me, my love. I’ll come to you whenever I am free,” he assured. He tangled his fingers in Fenrir’s fur, soothing him until he stopped growling.

With his son settled, Loki relaxed a little.

“Food for Fenrir is taken care of?” he asked, just to be sure. Thor nodded. 

“Of course,” he assured. “You are an honored guest, and so is your son!” he insisted, as Loki raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Oh please,” Loki scoffed.

Thor looked at him. “I mean it,” he insisted. “A room in Bilskirnir has been prepared for you,” he added when Loki’s expression didn’t change.

“In Sif’s immediate reach?” Loki asked, finally softening his features.

Thor nodded.

“She insisted,” he said.

“Show me to my room then, Thor. After I settle and rest for a bit I’ll go check on Sif, is that alright?”

Thor beamed.

“But of course!”

After setting up everything in his room - which Loki had to admit was very nice - Loki went to greet Sif.

He found her in the palace garden.

Frigg was with her.

“Loki!” Sif called and rose from the bench she had been resting on. Frigg supported her elbow, even though Sif didn’t need any help.

Loki could tell she was in great shape, even now.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sif told him, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you,”

Loki couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said with a smirk.

Frigg watched the exchange with a soft smile.

Loki pointedly kept his gaze on Sif.

“You look well. I’m tempted to say you won’t even need me,” he joked lightly.

Sif giggled, “Flattery suits you ill, Loki,” she chided and took his elbow.

He smiled.

“You look well too, Loki,” Frigg said softly.

His smile flickered. He could tell from her tone, that she knew he was avoiding her. So he turned to face her.

“Allmother,” he greeted neutrally.

Sif by his side lowered her head.

Of course she knew that Loki wasn’t happy to be here. She could imagine how he felt towards Frigg, towards herself even, and she couldn’t really bring herself to think of his reaction as wrong.

If somebody had taken Ullr from her, she would have reacted much like he did.

And judging from the bits and pieces she knew of his past, this was only the last of many hurts he had suffered.

“Come,” she said to him, “I’ll have a meal brought to my rooms, if you’d join me.”

“Gladly,” he replied. He bowed to Frigg and turned to follow Sif as she led him by his elbow.

Loki examined Sif while they waited for the meal to be served.

Of course Eir had given him regular updates, so there were no surprises on his side, but he still liked to get a feel for himself.

“Eir said you kept training until your sixth month?” he asked.

She nodded.

“She said it’s good to exercise,” she said.

Loki hummed.

“That is correct,” he confirmed and got up. “I assume you stopped because your shifting weight made it difficult?” he wondered.

Sif shook her head.

“They wouldn’t let me,” she murmured.

“You are pregnant, not ill,” Loki retorted. “So long as you don’t overdo it and don’t get hit in the stomach, there is no reason why you should stop exercising.”

He turned to look at her, then smirked.

“There is a way you can exercise, even now,” he told her, “I’m sure your husband won’t stop you from that.”

He kept looking at her, waiting for her to get it.

When she did, she turned bright red and hid her face in her hands.

“Loki!” she shrieked, “You cannot say such things!”

Loki laughed.

“I can touch and look at you down there, but I cannot mention the things your partner does to you in those same areas?”

“Oh Norns!” Sif cried.

Loki continued, “And here I thought Thor was supposed to be the god of fertility! I thought you’d be more accustomed to the pleasures of the flesh given his reputation.”

Sif put her hands over Loki’s mouth to shut him up.

“How can you say such things…” she groused.

He gave her a look, and gently pried away her hands.

“I am your midwife,” he pointed out.

Sif was about to open her mouth to argue, but Loki continued before she could.

“We are both adults, we both know how children come to be. I don’t understand why you’re so horrified about this.”

Sif deflated a bit.

“I’m not,” she assured and folded her hands over her belly, “but Thor is.” Her voice was barely audible.

Loki sighed.

Röskva brought the meal Sif had asked for earlier. Loki left after they finished eating and promised to talk to Thor.

He found the god in his room. Last time he’d been here, he had attacked him for hitting Jörmungandr with Mjölnir.

He smiled at the memory.

“Might we talk?” he asked, his voice surprisingly pleasant.

“Gladly,” Thor said and made a gesture, inviting Loki to take a seat. Loki did so, sitting on the narrow bench under Thor’s window.

Outside Asgardia shimmered in the light of the setting sun.

Thor watched Loki for a while, then cleared his throat.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

Loki turned towards him with a sharp smile.

“When did you last have sex with Sif?”

Thor would have fallen over himself if he had not been sitting down already.

He sputtered, choking on air.

“P-pardon?”

Loki looked at him.

“When did you last have sex with her. Make love, caress, fondle-” “Enough!” Thor interrupted.

“Answer,” Loki demanded.

Thor cleared his throat.

“I haven’t laid a hand on her since finding out about her circumstances,” he said, an undercurrent of pride lacing his voice.

“Some husband you are,” Loki chided.

Thor blinked.

“Pardon?”

“Some husband you are!” Loki repeated, “Are her needs beneath you, now that she’s done her duty as a wife?”

Thor raised his hands defensively, “What are you saying!? I couldn’t honor her more if I tried! How would I dare impose on her?” he folded his hands before his chest, “How could I dare to strain her in this delicate condition?”

Loki groaned.

“Norns pity this wife of yours,” he said, then sat up straight and looked at Thor.

“In-out is not the only kind of sex. It mustn’t all be about you and your release,” he lectured. “Tell me you at least caressed her, learned to worship her body the way you should.”

Thor’s expression said more than his words ever could.

Loki sagged, running a hand over his face.

“No more wine for you, Thunderer. Give me that chalice. A long night awaits you, and you need to be sober for the lessons to stick in that dull mind of yours,” he said and finished the wine in Thor’s stead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and for your patience between chapters!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far!  
> Idk when I'll write more, but I'll try to get something done... someday. XD
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, I'd love to receive Kudos or even a comment from you!
> 
> <3


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